The Sound of Music Chronicles Part II
by Shahrazad63
Summary: Part II of my version of TSOM. It comprises several different stories and vignettes, most of them new to . Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**PLEASE READ THIS FIRST:**

**Although there is A LOT new material included, this is NOT a new story. **

This is a re-writing of several stories of mind, taking place between the rowboat incident and the Edelweiss scene. Some of these stories and vignettes are new to . As for the old ones, chapters were revised and expanded, a few new ones were included. This is all part of my ongoing project to organize all my stories, placing them in the right order and getting rid of most inconsistencies.

**Reviews and/or positive criticism are appreciated. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimers:**

I do not own "The Sound of Music", "Die Trapp Familie", "Die Trapp Familie in Amerika" or any of the works in which I based my stories. I write them for fun only, as an exercise in creative writing. _This is a work of fiction,_ based upon the movie characters. Names and events related to the real story are used only to fill some blanks in the story, no offense is intended.

**Acknowledgements:**

Several people helped me, and are still helping me with those stories, specially my friends from "The Sound of Music Fan Fiction Forum" which was sadly taken offline against our will.

**The usual final WARNING/REQUEST:**

English is not my first language, so please be gentle. I´m really trying to do my best here. If you have any comments about my funny grammar or my spelling errors, please send me a private message. I would really appreciate it

**HAVE FUN!**

**oooooooo**

**T****he Sound of Music Chronicles**

**Part II **

**Interlude**

**Chapter 01**

_**The wool of a black sheep**_

_**ooooooo**_

"_**Everyone has his own specific vocation or mission in life; everyone must carry out a concrete assignment that demands fulfillment. Therein he cannot be replaced, nor can his life be repeated, thus, everyone's task is unique as his specific opportunity to implement it."**_

_**Viktor E. Frankl**_

_**ooooooo**_

"_**My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you and I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this, you will lead me by the right road, though I may now nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me and you will never leave me to face my struggles alone."**_

_**Thomas Merton**_

_**ooooooo**_

_While Maria quarreled with Captain von Trapp, not far from there, in the convent, the nuns had worries of their own…_

"Twenty eight postulants," sighed the Reverend Mother of Nonnberg Abbey, raising her eyes heavenward. "Twenty eight! I can´t say that I am happy about this. Quite frankly, I´m discouraged. As the years go by, fewer and fewer girls seem to have vocation for our kind of life. It makes me ask who is wrong – us or them?"

Worriedly, she looked at Sister Berthe, the Mistress of Novices and Sister Margaretta, the Mistress of Postulants, whom she had summoned to her study to discuss the qualifications of some of the candidates to the novitiate.

"Five years ago there were fifty; twenty years ago there were more than one hundred candidates. At this rate, I fear that our beloved Abbey will be extinct by the turn of the next century! I don´t know what to do about it, I pray for guidance every day."

Sister Margaretta smiled and shrugged. In times like this, the Reverend Mother found her serenity almost annoying.

"We pray for Nonnberg too, Reverend Mother," she said. "That is why I always say that "_the wool of a black sheep is just as warm"_. These are modern times, even in the best Catholic families the girls are raised with different expectations about life. We cannot demand of them what they can no longer offer us. A life dedicated to prayer, in seclusion, in silence, poverty and chastity is not for everyone anymore. There is a living, breathing, ever changing world out there; Nonnberg has to change as well to keep up with that."

Next to her. Sister Berthe snorted.

"Oh rubbish! As the most important Benedictine Abbeys in Austria, we do have high standards to keep, Sister Margaretta. It is the world that must adapt to us, not the opposite – that is the way it should be. If the world is changing, it does not mean that is going in the right direction, does it? It does not mean that we have to conform with it. We don´t have to compromise."

"Well…"

"If you mean to say that we should not start considering the admission if less qualified candidates just for the sake of progress, I must disagree," continued Sister Berthe. "I will always insist upon it, we cannot allow just _anyone_ to join our fraternity. I don´t care if there are only five or six of us one in one hundred years, at least the tradition that Nonnberg stands for will still stand, we will still live up to our good name…"

"My dears, I did not summon you here to start a debate about the future of our order," the Mother Abbess interrupted gently. "We can do that some other time – trust me, we will do it. Forgive me if I allowed myself to be carried away by my little worries, I will try to be more objective from now on. I called you because we must start selecting the candidates who are ready to enter the novitiate next fall. Our superiors want to set the date for the next ceremony, so it is time I make some decisions. For that I need to hear from you first."

"Very well, Reverend Mother, whatever we can do to help you. We are all ears."

"Let us begin by… what is her name? Hah - Christina!"

Sister Berthe nodded, satisfactorily.

"There is no doubt at all about Christina, Reverend Mother. None whatsoever. She is a pious as a future nun should be; she was simply born for the religious life. Vocation is something she does not lack; I see a bright future ahead of her, a future entirely dedicated to His service."

"I fear she is a bit _too_ pious at times, Sister Berthe. A little pretentious, perhaps…"

"Oh, not at all, Reverend Mother," Sister Margaretta came to the defense of one of her protégés. "Christina is a very sweet girl. Like all others, she is merely trying to adapt to our way of living. I agree with Sister Berthe. She is ready; I too have no doubts about her vocation."

"I´m glad you agree with me _at last_," Sister Berthe said stiffly.

"Well, I will rely on your opinion and keep my faith in my doubts as I always do. After all, you two spend more time with those girls than I do," said the Reverend Mother, making some notes next to Christina´s name on the list she had on top of her desk.

She looked at the next name on the list.

"Now how about that other girl, Theresa?"

Another muffled sound came from Sister Berthe. Sister Margaretta had a different reaction this time – she frowned.

"Honestly, I am not sure, Reverend Mother. I´ve been trying to speak to her, but she avoids me constantly. I do feel that there is something wrong there. There is some talk among the postulants and the novices. At times I suspect she is not here of her own free will…"

"Is that so?" Reverend Mother gazed at her with renewed interest.

"For heaven´s sake, beggars can´t be choosers, Reverend Mother," Sister Berthe intervened. "That is certainly something we can overlook in this girl´s case."

Sister Margaretta crossed her arms and eyed her defiantly.

"Oh really? I thought you just said we should only admit those who were highly recommended and that had _true_ vocation for the cloister, Sister Berthe."

"_Or,_ Sister Margaretta," he pointed out. "Not _and_. It so happens that Theresa came to us with very high recommendations."

"How high?"

"_Extremely_ high, Sister Margaretta," replied Sister Berthe, casting a meaningful glance.

"Oh?"

"You have no idea, have you?"

"Mmm. It hardly matters," the other sister shook her head, while the Mother Abbess merely watched their debate, as if fascinated. "If Theresa is here against her will…"

"Yes, but hers is an _exceptional_ case. Theresa comes from a very influential family; as I said, she came to us highly recommended. She would be a wonderful asset to Nonnberg, whether she likes the idea or not."

Sister Margaretta´s jaw dropped. The Reverend Mother decided the little argument had gone long enough and that it was time to interrupt them.

"I am not sure I agree with your line of thinking, Sister Berthe. But let me ask you: how _influential_ exactly is her family?"

"As I said, Reverend Mother – _very_ influential. Her uncle is a cardinal and her father…" She whispered a name and the Mother Abbess´s eyes widened in frank admiration. "Is that so?"

"Oh yes."

"Very impressive, indeed." The Reverend Mother shook her head. "Yes, now I remember. She is the niece of a cardinal with direct influence on the Pope; she has Habsburg blood running in her veins…" There was a certain "_I told you so_" look in Sister Berthe´s face when she gazed at Sister Margaretta, who simply rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"However, my dears, _if_ she is here against her will, that would be against every principle of this order. As for me, I refuse to allow a young girl destroy her life because of her family connections. There are so many ways to serve the Lord, and ours is merely one of them. _This Abbey cannot be used for the wrong reasons_. I won´t have girls entering our fraternity because of an amorous delusion, because they have nowhere else to go or because they simply wish to hide from the outside world."

"If the shoe fits," mumbled Sister Berthe with a sideways glance. Sister Margaretta shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She lowered her head, blushing slightly. Noting her discomfort, the Mother Abbess said, reassuringly.

"I did not mean you in particular, Sister Margaretta. You were a widow who lost your husband in the Great War when you came to us, not a heartbroken, inexperienced child. None of us ever questioned the truth and depth of your vocation," she finished, throwing a warning glance towards the other nun.

"But Reverend Mother," Sister Berthe insisted. "Theresa is…"

The superior nun silenced her with a gesture.

"I will add a question mark next to Theresa´s name, if that makes you happy, but I will not make my decision until I have a very honest conversation with that girl."

"That will suffice for the moment, thank you," nodded Sister Berthe. "I will talk to the girl myself, if you wish."

"No, I´ll handle this, Sister Berthe, but thank you for your offer."

"Reverend Mother?"

"Yes, Sister Margaretta."

"Aren´t you forgetting someone? Aren´t going to ask us about - _Maria_?"

"Oh yes. Maria."

"We had postulants that arrived one year or two before her and have already made their vows, but for some reason we are always leaving her behind when the time comes. I fear that, deep down, she is beginning to resent this."

"For _some_ reason? For _every _reason, I should say." Sister Berthe sneered. "Besides, she has no right to resent anything. She has to be thankful to us for allowing her to stay and give her a roof above his head. The Lord knows what could become of that girl if we did not open our doors to her."

Sister Margaretta shuddered, but decides not to argue any further, and to continue defending her protégé.

"Maria is terribly disappointed whenever she is not chosen to make her vows, and I dear one of these days we will lose her for good," said Sister Margaretta. "I am running out of excuses, running out of things to say to comfort her when I have to say "_not this year, my darling, we feel that you are not ready yet, perhaps the next time, Maria…_"."

The Reverend Mother dropped her pen and leaned back on her chair.

"I don´t think there should be any doubt about Maria!" exclaimed Sister Berthe. "She is obviously not…"

"I haven´t mentioned her not necessarily because I am not considering her name, but because she is _on loan_ to Captain von Trapp," said the Reverend Mother serenely, interrupting the terse nun. "And also because I think that _yes_, there are _plenty_ of doubts about Maria"

"What?" Both nuns exclaimed in unison, not quite believing their ears. The Mother Abbess had never openly questioned Maria´s vocation before.

"I will add another question mark to my list, I´m afraid. I won´t make my decision before I see her again next September. Considering that it is Maria, it is always best to talk directly _to_ her, and not _about_ her. It is easy to make all kinds of wrong assumptions about that girl; she always has a way of surprising us all."

"Forgive me, Reverend Mother, but I am not sure I understand your point of view," said Sister Margaretta. "She´s been with the von Trapp family for almost a month now, they haven´t sent her back to us. That means she is doing exactly what she is supposed to do, and that is a great accomplishment for Maria. I think she will return to us, and when she does, she will be more than ready to take her vows. As I said, it is past her time already."

"_If_ she returns…," the Reverend Mother corrected, almost distractedly.

"_If?_"

"With all due, respect, Reverend Mother, what do you mean by "_if"?"_

"Honestly, I have a feeling she will _not_. I sense that we have already lost her for good." Both nuns gasped. "But that should not worry us too much. It is, after all, _Maria_, and what an endless source of little surprises she is! Still, something tells me that she _will_ find her right path in life. If this path will lead her to us or away from us, it is something that only time will tell..."

"Reverend Mother, is there anything else we should know about Maria?" Sister Berthe asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "Anything _at all_ that you are keeping from us?"

The Reverend Mother rolled her eyes.

"Sister Berthe, as I say all the time, Maria is simply… _Maria._ She is an open book, at times too honest for her own good. I´m sorry to disappoint you, I am not keeping any secrets about her from you. She is what she is."

"Have you heard from Captain von Trapp yet?" It was Sister Margaretta´s turn to ask. "Is he happy with her?"

"I don´t think _happy_ is the proper word to describe the Captain´s feelings about anything that goes on around him, my dear," the Mother Abbess smiled mischievously. "But I will just say that scarcely two hours after Maria left, I received a telephone call from him."

"Hah! _Two hours?_ Ah ha, I knew it!" Sister Berthe snorted. "The girl is as incorrigible as that man is formidable!"

"What did he say?"

"Oh, I let him ramble and bark incessantly for about five minutes. I don´t need to give you the details, you know how Maria is. But I convinced him to let her stay for a while."

"You did?"

"Yes, I was surprised myself, but I did. I always sensed that Captain von Trapp´s bark is worse than his bite."

"I don´t know, Maria out into the world like that." Sister Margaretta seemed concerned. "As effervescent as she is, she is also very naïve and inexperienced. I honestly worry for her."

"Naturally I would not have sent her to him without making sure he gave me his word of honor that she would return to us unharmed. I have no reason to doubt Captain von Trapp´s word of honor, do you Sister Margaretta?"

The nun lowered her eyes. "You are right, as usual, Reverend Mother. He _is_ a naval hero after all."

"A _widowed_ naval hero," remarked Sister Berthe.

"Your point exactly, Sister Berthe?" The Mother Abbess´s tone was stern, for she did not like what the Mistress of Postulants was daring to imply.

Sister Berthe´s hesitation was so brief that it was hardly noticeable.

"My point is that Captain von Trapp is a very important man, a titled naval hero and – erhm - a fine figure of a man. Maria is… oh well, _Maria_, as you said yourself."

"Please, Sister Berthe," the Reverend Mother interrupted impatiently. "That would be the last thing on my mind. Besides, Maria can very well defend herself."

"Oh yes, she can," Sister Margaretta giggled. The other two looked at her questioningly. "Remember when she first came to us, Reverend Mother, and you asked me to question her about her – ehm - past life?"

"Yes, and you told me that in spite of her unusual upbringing, we should have no reason to doubt Maria´s chastity."

"None at all!" Sister Margaretta´s eyes still shone with mirth. "Among other things, she told me that the first and only boy who had ever tried to make improper advances at her was greeted by a very strong kick in the…" she covered her mouth.

"Where?" Sister Berthe asked.

"_There,_" Sister Margaretta´s voice was barely above a whisper.

"Ooohhh," the other nun moaned, knowingly, while the Mother Abbess was making a visible effort not to smile. "You see, _that_ is what I mean."

"So you worry about Maria kicking Captain von Trapp in the…"

"Sister Margaretta!" Sister Berthe scowled. "Sometimes I wonder if spending so much time with that girl hasn´t influenced you a little too much."

"Sisters, sisters," the Reverend Mother tried to appease them, more severely this time. "Now, Sister Berthe, could you please tell me, what _exactly_ are your concerns about Maria´s presence in the Captain´s home?"

"With pleasure. It is not Maria who worries me. We lost postulants for such reasons before, it would not be the first time, and, it wouldn´t be the last. Besides, it would be too ludicrous to be even considered. _Maria_ and a titled naval hero. Captain von Trapp and a mountain tomboy who can barely walk and talk properly. For pity´s sake!"

"Well, this time I must admit it. You could be right, Sister Berthe. What are your real worries, then?"

"My real worries are of another nature entirely. I worry for _us_. For Nonnberg."

"How so?"

"Oh, just think about all Captain von Trapp´s distinguished friends and family coming into his house and noticing the little postulant from Nonnberg Abbey that he hired to take care of his poor motherless children. Imagine if they see her doing the things she usually does – sliding down banisters, whistling, climbing trees, singing at the top of her lungs…"

"At least she is always in tune…" mumbled Sister Margaretta.

"… being late for every single thing, blabbering incessantly… and ultimately kicking gentlemen in their most sensitive areas. Are you sure this will reflect well on our Abbey in the future?" _Are you sure that it was wise to convince him to let her stay when he was already willing to let her go?_" asked Sister Berthe, leaning forward in her seat, expectantly.

"In all honesty, _I don´t know_… as I also don´t know why in heavens he agreed with me. Yet, he did! It seems that our Maria made quite an impression on him."

"Doesn´t she always?" said Sister Berthe sardonically. "I shudder just to think of that girl in the home of an aristocratic family. She is utterly unable to tie her own shoes without starting a revolution!"

"I believed it´s called a _mutiny_ in naval terms, Sister Berthe."

"Hah!"

"When you say that she made an impression, are you talking about a good or a bad impression, Reverend Mother?"

The elderly nun shrugged.

"Oh, I don´t think Captain von Trapp himself knows the answer to that one yet, Sister Margaretta. But she is still there, isn´t she? She must be doing something good to that family!"

"Mmm," grumbled Sister Berthe. "I am not sure I like this, Reverend Mother. I still think you should call Maria back _at once_, before real disaster strikes."

The Reverend Mother sighed.

"Sister Berthe, the governess that was hired by Captain von Trapp before Maria was a Professor of Behavioral Psychology at the University of Graz on her sabbatical leave," she explained, patiently. "Yet, she was not able to stay for more than two hours in her position. Our _will-o-the-wisp_ who came from an obscure Tyrolean village is still there working for the Captain, caring for his children after a whole month now. Whatever Maria is doing, I think she is doing it _right_,or, at least, trying to. The Captain is a clever man; I think he realizes that as well as I do, although he might not admit it, even to himself. You may find it hard to believe, but it is true."

"What should we do then?"

"We wait, Sister Margaretta. We simply… _wait_."

21


	2. Chapter 2

**The Sound of Music Chronicles**

**Part II **

**Interlude **

**Chapter 02**

_**Once upon a dream**_

_**ooooooo**_

_A/N: I hope you enjoy this one. As I said, please don´t expect quick updates, I´m making very slow progress with this one. Thank you for your reviews, they are always welcome. Have fun!_

_**ooooooo**_

_**Cruel? I think there never was a cheating**_

_**More cruel, thro' all the weary days than this!**_

_**This is no dream, my heart kept on repeating,**_

_**But sober certainty of waking bliss.**_

_**Dreams? O, I know their faces, goodly seeming,**_

_**Vaporous, whirled on many-coloured wings;**_

_**I have had dreams before, this is no dreaming,**_

_**But daylight gladness that the daylight brings.**_

_**What ails my love; what ails her? She is paling;**_

_**Faint grows her face, and slowly seems to fade!**_

_**I cannot clasp her, stretch out unavailing**_

_**My arms across the silence and the shade.**_

_**Amy Levy**_

_**ooooooo**_

"_**She was a Phantom of delight**_

_**When first she gleam'd upon my sight;**_

_**A lovely Apparition, sent**_

_**To be a moment's ornament…"**_

_**William Wordsworth**_

_**ooooooo**_

_**A man had given all other bliss,  
>And all his worldly worth for this,<br>To waste his whole heart in one kiss  
>Upon her perfect lips.<br>**_

_**Alfred, Lord Tennyson**_

_**ooooooo**_

Captain von Trapp woke up that morning with a most curious cravingof a particular, very _puzzling_ nature. It wasn´t a basic desire born out of the primal nature of a healthy human male in the prime of his life, which was precisely what made it so intriguing. No, there was little or nothing sexual about it, it was something else entirely. On the other hand, it was…

No, it couldn´t be! It just wasn´t like him at all!

Georg never thought of himself as a nauseatingly romantic type, far from it. More often than not, he used to roll his eyes in amusement when he saw his wife buried in the pages of a silly novel and sighing. His had upbringing conditioned him to view public displays of affection something bordering on the vulgar and not something that a man of his station should engage, even with the woman he loved. Fortunately, his wife came from a similar social environment as his, and tended to agree with their ideas. He rarely kissed Agathe when they were not completely alone, and the few times it happened in public, it was always her hand, her cheek or her forehead – never her lips. That was simply the way things were done, and he had never felt comfortable in changing that. Now, with Elsa, he was following the same rules.

In essence, romancing his wife was something very private, reserved for moments when they were completely alone, moments that became increasingly rare as the years passed and the number of their children grew. In spite of it all, miraculously, it was clear to anyone who looked at them that they were a passionate loving couple.

But then, he used to make up for it, didn´t he? – He remembered with a sad smirk. He and Agathe never failed to make the most of the little time they had for themselves. When the children were tucked in bed and the doors of the master bedroom closed behind them, giving his wife a very thorough kiss was the first thing he usually did, to compensate for the distance that sometimes they were forced to keep from each other during the entire day simply because that was how the world they lived in was like.

Today of all days, for the first time ever since he lost his wife, he woke up with the absurd need to feel again the thrill of those first moments after he closed a door to the world, leaving him with Agathe alone on the other side. To kiss a woman, to feel her lips caressing his own…

_A woman –_ but _not_ Agathe.

It was _disturbing_, to say the least.

How could that be? He wanted to kiss a woman the way he used to kiss his beloved wife every morning in the twenty years of their marriage, but his wife was _not_ that woman… It was absurd, it was illogical, irrational. It was… _unthinkable_!

_Why?_

He frowned and considered the question for a moment.

Granted, as far as the act of kissing was concerned in itself, he enjoyed it as much as any other man, but even while he was married, whenever he woke up in an _amorous mood,_ so to speak, kissing was not exactly the first thing in his mind. Elsa frequently accused him of being the quintessential _unromantic _male_,_ as she put it, and not entirely without reason. It was maddening that someone as rational as he was, even in his dealings with the opposite sex, would wake up with such ideas. One and only one of them had ever appealed to him romantically, and now she lay dead and buried, in a grave covered with silly wild flowers that the children´s Fräulein had…

His thoughts halted. He punched the bed with clenched fists to relieve the sudden tension in his body.

_What did his governess have to do with anything?_

Annoyed by the sudden intrusion in his musings, he methodically considered his predicament again. He had to. He _would_ never, _could_ never allow that slip of a governess/tomboy/would-be-nun to drive him to the brink of irrationality.

What made the sudden urge even more maddening was the fact that not just _any_ woman would do. It was not the occasional reaction of the hormones of a healthy but sexually deprived male, thus the kiss he longed for was not the mere prelude more intimate acts that would certainly follow, a kiss of lust, meant to arouse and to excite, but nothing more. It wasn´t that he didn´t want that – he did, but he wanted more: the woman he wanted to kiss so badly he could almost feel his lips on hers was a very _specific_ one.

The trouble was that _he had absolutely no idea who she was!_

How absolutely maddening!

He tried to think of the women in his social circle. He considered every suitable living female that he knew in his life, he even considered a few unsuitable ones and found that none would be able to offer him _exactly _the earth shattering experience that he craved.

O-ho, but he knew who she was _not_, and that at least was a start: to his profound, utmost displeasure, the woman was not Elsa, the one he intended to marry.

It was, of course, utterly unfair to think about his future wife in that manner, but there was something lacking in their kisses, a certain elusive element that he failed to define. Physically they were highly satisfactory, they served their purpose, but emotionally they usually left him empty and bitter. He assumed that it was only natural, since, in a way, he was still recovering from the trauma that the loss of a spouse represented to him. There had never been any reason to expect that his relationships with women would ever be the same again, he was still _adjusting_ to the changes in his life. His reckless affairs in Vienna before he met Elsa had proved that to him in spades. All he could do was to hope that things would start to change with Elsa in due time, after they were married.

Yes, _change._ With Elsa, there was always the hope that things would change in the future… No, things_ would_ have to change with her, but his wife was unreachable to him now, in the past. Regrettably, there was nothing about it that he could change, even if he wanted to.

Well, he didn´t think he would ever want to change a thing. He smiled sadly and, just for a moment, he allowed himself to remember the first time he and Agathe had ever kissed… Or, to put it correctly, the first time _he _had kissed _her_.

It happened the same day they were introduced, the day his first submarine was christened. They were at the grand ball in celebration of the ceremony that was held same evening. Ironically, it was also in that same ballroom that he would meet Elsa for the first time although, on that occasion, he did not have eyes for her blinding beauty. All he saw before him was Miss Agathe Whitehead.

It was their fifth dance together already, and the matrons in attendance were already raising their censorious eyebrows against the inappropriateness of their actions. As ridiculous as it may seem to modern eyes, another dance and Agathe´s reputation could suffer some damage, so he saw that fifth one as his last chance to have a private word with the girl of his dreams. Deftly, he whisked her away from the ballroom before the orchestra finished playing the waltz, to an adjacent room that was blessedly empty. The arrogant, impetuous youth that he was saw no reason _why_ the gently bred maiden in his arms who was yet to deny him a dance would resist him, at least not after having agreed to waltz with him _five times. _Thus, before his partner could say a word, he was kissing her passionately. She did not fight him at first, and he misinterpreted her acquiescence as a sign of acceptance while, quite the contrary, it meant only that she had been too stunned to do anything else but to submit.

The stinging slap in the face he received from her the moment their lips parted was as passionate as the kiss. A slap, an indignant "_How dare you?" _spoken in the most perfect upper class British accent he had ever heard in his entirely life and she was out of his sight, leaving him behind, completely bewildered. It would take one week, at least two nerve wracking conversation with her formidable parents, several dozens of pink roses – her favorites - accompanied with notes with his most sincere apologies to convince Miss Whitehead that he was worthy of her attentions again.

The memory of his little ordeal would always make he and Agathe laugh over the happy years that followed. It made him smile even now. There was, however, a difference – this time he did not avoid the memory, he welcomed it, embraced it, savored it as if it were a delicacy of the rarest type. There was a sense of nostalgia attached to it, but not the anguish, the sadness he feared. It was simply a _good_ memory of times past.

Still lingering in bed, he frowned.

_When_ had that changed exactly? Was it just another one of the small miracles Elsa had been able to accomplish, one that he hadn´t realized until now? Was he really ready to love the woman he had chosen to be his wife as she deserved to be loved? Or was it – as absurd as it would seem – the work of another miracle worker, one who had barged into his house causing havoc with every step she took, the problem postulant of Nonnberg Abbey?

His frown deepened as the vivid image of the children´s Fräulein invaded his thoughts for the second time in the past ten minutes. He allowed himself to consider Fräulein Maria _Whateverherlastnamewas_ for a moment… What harm would there be in it, anyway?

Slowly, the frown turned into a devilish little smile.

If he were to drag someone like _her_ from a ballroom for a thorough kiss, undoubtedly his punishment would be far worse than a slap in the face, considering the fury with wish she had lashed out at him the day before. He chuckled, wondering about the unfortunate male who had been the first to try to steal a kiss from the tomboyish female. O-ho, he simply had to exist, there had to be someone before the little spitfire made the decision to lock herself for life and throw away the keys. Although she had said she was a mountain girl, unless she had grown up in isolation in one of Austria´s highest peaks, she had to have some kind of life before she entered the convent, and if she did, then _someone_ must have noticed her before. The Fräulein certainly wasn´t the quiet, subdued type. He found it hard to believe that no man had ever even tried to taste those luscious pink lips of hers, had never touched…

"_What the hell?"_ he exclaimed, furious with himself and with the direction of his thoughts had taken – and not for the first time. "_It was that blasted dream,_" he cursed again. "_It _had_ to be the dream_."

It had not been an easy night for him. Half of it he spent musing about his troubles with the children and their governess, devising ways in which he would successfully put the pestering Fräulein in her right place without running the risk of being caught unawares by her particular brand of logics.

The other half was restless, plagued by dreams… or nightmares.

He dreamed he could not remember Agathe´s face…

It was simply… _gone_, wiped out from his memory. The sensation of panic was horrifying, something he did not recall experiencing in his life, worst that his worse experiences during the Great War. He needed to see her just one more time, to look at her again, so that he would never forget, but every time he tried, he saw nothing but a blank space where her face should be.

In his dream, he got up from his bed. He needed to find something that would help him remember, only to be reminded, in the worst possible manner, that he had removed every image of her from his sight. There wasn´t a single photograph to be found. He searched everywhere, in the silent, empty hallways of the villa at night, but there was nothing but darkness before him. Until he saw a woman, only the shadow of the white dress she was wearing, so faint that it was barely discernible to his eyes.

Who was the lovely apparition?

Oh, she could only be his Agathe, who else would haunt his dark dreams like that? On the other hand, Agathe would not do that to him, she would never torture him in such manner, by withholding from him the memory of her face…

There was only way to find out – he had to look at her face. If she was his wife, he would be able to look at her just _once more_ and remember… He would not have her back by his side when he awakened, but at least he would not have forgotten her face. If she was not… no, he was not ready yet to consider that possibility.

She escaped him as he tried to catch her, so he started to pursue her. Larger and faster, eventually he caught up with her, cornering her against the door that led to the attic. A door that, even in dreams, was firmly locked.

He could see her more clearly now, as the moonlight streamed though a small window in the hallway. Her dress reminded him of one worn by the woman in the Klimt painting he had admired in Elsa´s parlor weeks before. From her neck up she was still immersed in darkness, so that her hair could not be seen. It struck him briefly that she was much taller than his wife.

He spoke to her, while she stubbornly kept her back to him.

"_Who are you?_ _Why did you bring me here? Agathe, is that you, my love? Why this place where I now keep every object that was so dear to you? What are you trying to tell me, do you want me to open this door again, to let the memories of you intrude in my life once more? I would, gladly, if you would only let me see you… If you would let me know that it´s indeed you…"_

The apparition answered to his pleas.

She turned around to look at him before he could raise his hand to touch her, before he could bring her to his arms.

He _finally_ saw her face….

He woke up before his mind could register it, bathed in cold sweat.

Closing his eyes again, he tried to see Agathe in his mind. He couldn´t at first, just like in the nightmare, and panic made it hard for him to breathe. Only as he calmed himself down the details came back to him: her soft, curly hair framing her face, her beautiful brown eyes, her upturned nose, her porcelain skin, her luscious lower lip, the tiny mole on the left side of her neck. It was all still there for him to remember, every detail etched in his memory forever.

He sank back in his pillows, nearly shouting his relief, taking huge gasps of air until he felt normal again.

It was another face, the one in the dream was the one that was now completely forgotten.

The face of the woman he wanted...

16


	3. Chapter 3

**The Sound of Music Chronicles**

**Part II **

**Interlude **

**ooooooo**

_**A/N: Thank you my reviewers! This one if for you:-)**_

**ooooooo**

**Chapter 03**

_**New beginnings**_

_**ooooooo**_

"_**Let us always meet each other with smile, for the smile is the beginning of love." **_

_**Mother Theresa**_

_**ooooooo**_

"_**The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not to twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them."**_

_**Thomas Merton**_

_**ooooooo**_

It was not the smell of strong coffee and freshly baked bread that woke up Maria morning after Captain von Trapp returned from Vienna with his guests. It was the unlikely sound of hoof beats outside, just outside the windows of her bedroom.

"Who on earth is up at this ungodly hour?" she grumbled, sinking deeper under the cover. Glancing at the clock in her bedside table she saw that it was indeed early, the sun had barely rose.

Well, she had no wish to rise herself, not just yet. She still had at least half an hour to linger in bed if she so wished. Yesterday had been a tiring day in every possible aspect, and by the time she was finally able to fall into bed, she was so tired that she slept instantly, a deep, dreamless slumber. Now, nearly eight hours later, she felt that she hadn´t rested nearly enough to feel whole again.

Lazily, she yawned and stretched content. It would be another beautiful day in the Salzburg countryside – she hoped it would. She _knew _it would be, she had no doubt about it. It did not matter that it would be a _difficult_ day at first. The Captain would be expecting her in his study precisely at ten, after the children had their breakfast. Thinking about confronting the fearsome sea captain again in the light of day made her feel edgy after all the events of the day before. She had not seen him again after his fervent apology on the stairway – shortly after that he had left with his guests, to dine in the city and they had not returned until she and the children had retired.

"_I want you to stay. I ask you to stay."_

A shiver ran down her spine. She let her arms fall to her sides and savored the new feeling. Her toes curled. How interesting! It was very strange but oddly pleasant, but truthfully it wasn´t something that she had never felt before. Only yesterday while she was arguing with the Captain, at some point she was overcome with that same peculiar sensation. And earlier, that first day, when she first heard that foolish boatswain whistle, when she fell from the oak tree on top of him, when she…

Maria sat up, punching her pillow in exasperation. No, she wouldn´t have it, she would never ever admit it, not even under torture that _he_ was the cause of her body reacting like that. It would make her as silly as Theresa, drooling and rolling her eyes over photographs of movie stars she found in magazines she managed to smuggle into the Abbey.

"_Well, there is one reason why the Reverend Mother was wise not to send Theresa in my place. Knowing her as I do, she would melt into a puddle at his feet after only a first good look at the Captain. It would be terribly embarrassing to us all, imagine that! At least my higher purpose in life makes it easy for me to behave in a more dignified manner, as far as dashing sea captains who belonged to the pages of a novel concerned."_

She didn´t think it had anything to do with the temperature in her bedroom either. She was warm enough under the covers, and the night had not been particularly cold. No, definitely not cold. For some reason, thinking about the intense look in the Captain´s eyes when he said those words made her feel rather… _warm_.

Troubled eyes like the ocean after a storm…

She got up with a jolt.

"For God´s sake, Maria, don´t be ridiculous. _Stop that nonsense at once! _What is happening to you? You´ve never even seen the ocean!" she exclaimed, noting that her voice did not sound as loud clear as it should be. It was hoarse and raspy, her throat ached when she tried to swallow – an obvious consequence of her fortuitous fall on the lake. She cleared it, and then tried to sing a few notes.

"_Do, re, mi, mi…. miiiiiiiiiiiiii…_"

Nothing came out, at least anything that resembled the crystal clarity of her own voice.

"_At least that partly explains the shivering_," she shrugged. "_I must be coming down with something. It was foolish of me to believe that fall in the lake had any consequences other than my damaged pride. Ah ha, there it is! It is a perfectly logical explanation for everything, isn´t it?_"

She´d never been seriously ill a day in her life, she hardly remembered how a fever felt. But she certainly would not start _now,_ not if she could avoid it. No, she could not let such a disgraceful thing happen to her, considering all the trouble she had to go through just to be able to _wake up_ in that house that morning. Well, it would pass soon enough after a cup of the cook´s steaming, strong coffee. She might even be able to sing along with the children later in the afternoon.

Still, she resumed her mumbling.

"First things first. Captain von Trapp _is_ a handsome man. Period. Accept it, deal with it. It´s a fact. Live with it. There are _billions_ of men like him out in the world – although I am yet to glimpse one of them -, and he is just another one. He is not _the_ most handsome, I am sure there must be other sea captains twice as dashing as he ever was, but he… He is just… who he is. Admire him, if you must, like you admire that engraving of Michelangelo´s David in your art history book. But _never_ allow yourself to behave like a silly twit like Theresa because of this simple, plain fact that even a nun can realize."

There. She sighed happily, feeling suddenly renewed. It was like today was her first day in the household.

A new beginning…

All of her previous mishaps no longer mattered, yesterday´s events had erased them all, as if they never happened. Sitting on a pinecone and yelling her head off, falling from a tree on top of Captain von Trapp, falling on a lake with his seven children, standing before him in an horribly revealing wet dress – the mere thought of it was no longer enough to make her flustered, as it was only the day before. Actually, given a few more hours, she wondered if she would not be able to laugh at her little misadventures. What mattered in the end was that Captain von Trapp had noticed her good intentions, he had given her his full trust…

Well, perhaps _half_ his trust, if she were absolutely honest with herself. Well, may be _one quarter_ of it, but she could live with that.

Maria did not doubt for a second that he would still cling to some of his outdated ideas about the children´s upbringing. No, he was much too headstrong, too pigheaded to admit defeat so easily. Yet, at least from now on she expected that he would be just a little more reasonable and _listen_ to her, hopefully without threatening to send her back to the Abbey every time she committed the ultimate sin of contradicting him. And the Lord knew that she planned to contradict him _a lot_ in the future. He was much too used to having everything his way; he could use the challenge of discovering that the world did not revolve around him and his beliefs. It was time someone showed him the light.

Oh, but there was so much to do!

Together, they would have to find a way to make music lessons fit into the children´s tight schedule. Maybe in due time, when she felt more at ease in his presence, she would ask permission to bring down that famous grand piano from the attic. Yes, music lessons and a reasonable amount of time for them to play and just… _be children_. That shouldn´t be so - _revolutionary_, even for a man like Captain von Trapp! Convincing him to go along with her marvelous plans would be her hardest task, but she was willing to compromise if she had to. After all, Rome was not built in a day! He would need time to adjust to her new ideas, time to get reacquainted with the children.

Time to love them…

The memory of his soulful eyes when he uttered his earnest apology invaded her thoughts again, and she shook her head, as if trying to banish it. No, she had no time for _that_ now. _Not now!_ Perhaps it was best if she woke up, took her morning shower and got ready for the day ahead, instead of lying in bed indulging herself in musings about a certain sea captain who, although quite obviously a handsome devil, was the most infuriatingly difficult man she ever had the misfortune to meet. And _that_ was what should be the first thing on her mind as far as the man was concerned.

The sound of hoof beats grew louder, and she heard voices too, although she could make out what they were saying. Her trained ears recognized Captain von Trapp´s deep baritone. The other male voice was much lower, not so easily recognizable, nevertheless she could tell that it belonged to a much younger man. Was he the equerry, perhaps?

Curiously, she walked to the window, opening it and taking a moment to breathe the crisp morning air, uttering a silent prayer, thanking the Lord because she was simply still there. Only then she lowered her eyes to the garden below, looking for the source of the inopportune noise that had wakened her from slumber.

She had to blink once or twice to believe what she was seeing. Her jaw dropped, and she scratched her eyes. Maybe she was still asleep, still dreaming about how wonderful life could be in that house if the children´s father wasn´t so irascible. There, a few feet below her window, she saw him from the back. Oh, she would recognize that silhouette _anywhere_ by now: Captain von Trapp, about to go out for a morning ride with his eldest son, Friedrich. They looked quite a sight too, the Captain in full riding gear, and Friedrich wearing his play clothes.

"What a formidable pair they make," she thought, giggling. "Oh, Friedrich, you poor dear!"

While she was making those play clothes, she tried to find something that was more appropriate for the boys, since she had a feeling he would resent wearing something… _flowery. _She found nothing she could use. Kurt who had been blessed with a whimsical sense of humor, said he did not mind. Friedrich remained silent at first, but when she insisted, he told her that he would not want to stand out from his brothers and sisters. He did not rebel, he wore his play clothes in a curious detached, debonair manner, which told her that he was very much his father´s son. But deep down, Maria could not help but believe that Friedrich longed for clothes that were more appropriate to his age and gender. Yet, this morning, he did not seem to mind wearing the play clothes again.

The Captain was riding that terrifying stallion of his, named after the god of the underworld – Hades – or was it Pluto? It hardly mattered. The fact was that Maria was not very fond of horses and, Hades or Pluto; it would not be that _beast_ that would change her mind about them.

Next to his father, Friedrich was mounting a smaller horse that looked much friendlier to Maria. His father was holding the reins to both animals, and it look like he was giving his sons a few instructions before they left. Maria could only imagine that Friedrich most probably had not ridden a horse since his mother had died.

Her newly acquired experiences with the higher classes led her to suppose that it wasn´t a very nice thing to intrude on their privacy by spying on them like that, she motioned to leave the window.

It was when Friedrich saw her.

"Fräulein! Over here! Good morning!" the boy waved gleefully.

It was impossible not to smile and wave back, the boy´s cheerfulness was rather contagious. She tried to speak too, but her voice would not come – she really would have to do something about her sore throat urgently! Instead, she simply returned the greeting waving back enthusiastically.

The look in Friedrich´s face made her proud. No wonder he did not mind wearing the play clothes, she realized that for the first time she saw the boy genuinely _happy_. She had been right in all her conclusions about him, things that she had shouted to his father´s face the day before. That the boy needed his confidence, his attention, he needed to be treated like the firstborn son that he was.

Her gaze automatically shifted to the boy´s father. The Captain´s greeting wasn´t nearly as effusive.

"Not so loud, Friedrich, you´ll wake up the whole house this way_,_" he said to his son, but his tone was amiable, vaguely conspiratorial, rather than censorious.

"_Apparently, the lord and master of the house is in a good mood that morning_," she thought, smiling and shrugging. "_It must be a rare thing to see, indeed._"

However, her amusement did not last for long. The Captain raised his eyes and acknowledged her presence with a nod that was almost imperceptible. For a second or two, he held her gaze. From a distance, she could see the already familiar shadow of a smile in his lips and in his eyes. Her own smile froze, and then turned into a silly grin. In response to that, his face became impassive; ever sign of amusement instantly gone.

"_It is very curious, that little smirk of his_," she mused briefly; now biting her lips she tried to maintain a serious face to mirror the seriousness of his. "_It is almost like if he is _afraid_ to allow himself to smile… No,_ _perhaps _afraid _is the wrong word for him, I don´t think he fears anything. Recalcitrant, perhaps? It is either that or he is mocking people all the time, which would not be a very nice thing to do at all. Oh, I can´t tell what it is, it´s infuriating. It is just as I thought before, he´s a Sphinx!"_

Nevertheless, there was something very discernible about him, at least to Maria. That occasional, brief glimmer in his eyes was only the only hint of the man she had seen the day before, the man who had apologized to her and asked her to stay.

"_You see, I´m following your advice_," his eyes twinkled, as she bravely faced him.

It was when she made the mistake of smiling to him. Openly.

The Captain´s face hardened even more, if possible. The Sphinx was back, mask and all, inscrutable as always.

"_Sometimes I wonder if there is any hope for you at all, Captain, and also what was the Reverend Mother thinking when she believed I would be of any help to you_," she thought.

She took a step back, now, for some reason, overly conscious of the fact that she was wearing nothing but her nightgown.

"_Oh, I wish one of these days I were properly attired when I confront him,_" she thought, her face flaming.

A dowdy gray dress, then a wet dress, and _twice_ in a nightgown. It did not matter that it covered her more decently than anything else she had, it was still a nightgown and _no one_ was supposed to see her in it.

He, on the other hand, always seemed to be impeccable.

"_It must be the blessing and the curse of his upbringing_," she thought, moving away from the window at last.

If she stayed only a while longer, perhaps she would have noticed that, just before the riders disappeared into the woods, Captain von Trapp turning his head one last time, towards his governess´s window…


	4. Chapter 4

**The Sound of Music Chronicles**

**Part II **

**Interlude**

**Chapter 04**

_**Wondrous innocence**_

_**ooooooo**_

_A/N: Thank you for your reviews, I wish I could have updated this sooner, but it was impossible. Have fun!_

_**ooooooo**_

"_**It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it." **_

_**Aristotle**_

_**ooooooo**_

"_**Innocence is like polished armor; it adorns and defends" **_

_**Robert South **_

_**ooooooo**_

"_**The only problem with seeing too much is that it makes you insane." **_

_**Phaedrus**_

_**ooooooo**_

"_She will be here at ten_," Captain von Trapp thought, fingers tapping incessantly against his desk.

He was now fully composed, feeling himself again after one hour of riding through the countryside with his eldest son. He smiled – actually, he was very much impressed with the boy, not to mention _proud_ as every father had the right to be. They rode in a fast gallop, and the boy had kept up with him without the slightest hint of fear or hesitation.

Inviting Friedrich had been an impulsive decision of his, but one he had not regretted. At first he had planned to ride alone that morning, as he usually did, especially after those pathetic dreams that had plagued him during the night and that were the cause of his restless mood. He changed his mind as soon as he spotted his son skipping stones by the lake, looking utterly miserable wearing that ridiculous flowery outfit the governess had made with the old curtains from her bedroom. He called out to him, and to his utter chagrin, Friedrich reacted as if he had been caught doing something wrong – his eyes widened, he blushed profusely.

Georg cursed inwardly, asking himself _when_ the hell he had turned into his own father. Well, a few weeks ago his son would have a reason to fear what would happen next. He would have caught Friedrich in the middle of a transgression: wearing improper clothes, playing while he should be still in bed, or, at least, getting ready for breakfast. He would have sent him up to his bedroom for the rest of the day as a punishment. As horrible as it sounded, that was a fine example of what the full extent of his relationship with his son was like. He did not have the heart to act like that that today, not anymore.

Silently, he watched Friedrich for a moment, trying to adjust the mental picture of the eleven year boy he was when his mother died to the image he now saw before him. The realization that it was a mental process that he was now used to doing whenever he looked at each of his children disturbed him. He could not deny it. It seemed like the images of all seven of them were frozen in his mind the day their mother had died, and for the past years he had perhaps _looked_ at them, but had not _seen_ them at all. All of a sudden, every time he gazed at them, he had to make that quick adjustment. He did not need to be reminded of _when_ that started to happen.

Take his eldest son, for instance. He was now a lad of fourteen, he would be fifteen next fall. It was easy to guess that by the time he reached that age. He was growing fast; he would soon be taller than Liesl, perhaps as tall as his father. Grimly, he remembered how his body was going through hell at that age, and with that he realized a few other things as well: when Georg was Friedrich´s age, he was, like his son, a good rider. On the other hand, he already had his heart broken by the first girl he had ever kissed; when he was only two years older than his son when he´d already had his first woman. Looking at Friedrich, he thought of him too terribly young and immature to go through any of those experiences, even in two or three years. When Georg was that age, he was already years ahead of his son in terms of life experiences. He had been practically brought up in strict boarding schools since the tender age of seven, but at age fourteen, he was admitted to the Naval Academy in Fiume, and after that, he was almost completely independent. Unlike Friedrich, he was not practically forced to grow up almost in semi-reclusion in the Austrian countryside.

Georg began to realize how much his past attitudes, which had only the selfish goal to shield himself against the pain of his grief, would potentially affect his son´s future, and the future of his other children. What kind of emotional scars had he unwillingly inflicted upon them? Only time would tell. Meanwhile, he had to also to consider something else: How could he demand them to be model citizens, patriots who would make Austria proud, if he did not allow them to _grow up_?

Most importantly – how could a governess living in seclusion herself was able to realize all that when he was not?

There was so much about his children he did not know, things that every father knew but that he remained chosen to remain ignorant of. There were so many things he wanted to ask his sons and daughters… What were their likes and dislikes, what were their dreams… Some damage had already been done, he hardly had a doubt about that, and the question was what he could possibly do to fix things.

"_There's still time, Captain. They want so much to be close to you,"_ she had said only the day before, and he heard the words as clearly as if she had whispered them in his year. He wanted to believe them, he wanted to have her unshakable faith that everything would turn out just fine.

"_I hope you are right about this, Fräulein,_" he thought. "_I hope there is still time to undo each and every one of my mistakes. Because if you are wrong, I am not sure how I will be able to live with the consequences… although I am also quite sure you will find a way to tell me,_" he chuckled.

"Friedrich," he called out. "Let us go for a ride."

The boy´s face lit up, fear and apprehension turning into surprise. But he never waited for a second invitation.

And then, as they were ready to leave, he casually raised his eyes to the windows that belonged to the governess bedroom. He never knew what brought him to do that. His early morning ride was an unbreakable routine of his, whenever he was in Aigen. On the way to the path he usually took, the one that led to the woods bordering his property, he passed by the servants quarters, but _never_ before he had felt the slightest glimmer of curiosity to look up to the window of the governess room. Why on earth would he ever consider doing that?

His breath caught when he saw her, leaning out, her eyes closed, breathing the morning air. The expression in her face was the closest thing to pure bliss he had seen in a very long time. Perhaps something he had _never_ seen…_._ From the distance, he could tell that her lips moved slightly, as if uttering a morning prayer.

"_How on earth can someone remain so… untouched in a world that is so… corrupt?_" he wondered, mesmerized. For the second time, he asked, "_What is your secret, Fräulein? It is your faith in God or is it just… you?"_

Friedrich saw her too at that moment and broke the spell. Before he could tell his son to leave the little Fräulein alone in order not to disturb her private moment, he was already waving and calling her name, betraying none of his excitement for being worthy of the attentions of a father again.

The governess reacted as he expected she would, with an equally enthusiastic greeting. She only did not shout as he expected she would, perhaps because she was still more than a little wary of him.

"_Well, at least I still have her respect,_" he thought, but somehow the idea of her fearing his authority no longer appealed to him as he expected it would.

Their eyes met – no, _clashed_ would be a more appropriate description, as they surprised each other in a moment when they were most unguarded.

"Damn!" he muttered irritably, not sure he believed what he saw and felt... He was not sure if he was angry at himself or at the blasted governess, not sure he _liked_ what he saw and felt, not sure if he wanted to become _aware_ of what he saw and felt ever again. The lingering feelings of the dream returned with full force and he immediately repressed them, using ever shred of self control he possessed.

Fortunately, the feeling was mutual, though he didn´t know what to think of it: the broad smile died on her lips; her whole stance froze. She took a small step back.

His son had heard his expletive.

"Father?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you mad at her again?"

"Fräulein Maria?" He said, knowing that was the answer to his son´s question. Unnecessary words, he did not have to say them at all. It was just a name. _Her_ name.

"_A governess name!"_ his mind vehemently protested, shaking his head.

"No, I´m not mad at her or anyone this morning, Friedrich. Actually, I´m in an exceptionally good mood," he said, although his son looked like he did not believe a word of it. "It´s nothing. We should go now – you don´t wish your father to be late for breakfast, do you?"

His son laughed. He looked up to the window again. She was still there, still looking at him with that absurd fascination in her eyes. He, on the other hand, had recovered himself completely.

"_This is utterly ridiculous. As you just reminded yourself she is just a governess, for pity´s sake! She is – _insignificant. _Yes, that is what she is. Insignificant,_" he thought, deluding himself that he had been convinced by his own mental arguments. His face hardened into the usual aristocratic mask. The startling feelings that still lingered were strongly repressed and buried deeply into the recesses of his mind where they belonged, his disciplined brain immediately focused on the task at hand: his son.

Now, scarcely two hours later, the governess was about to cross the door to his study… No, he did not want to think about the wondrous innocence in her eyes when she looked at him anymore, he _must_ steer his mind to practical matters. The storm had passed, and there was no reason why his ship should not continue running smoothly, although through different waters. Uncharted waters, perhaps.

He considered the upcoming facts and their logical consequences. The main one was that, precisely at ten, he was supposed to discuss the upbringing of his sons and daughters with _her _ - twelfth governess. The black sheep of Nonnberg Abbey. Considering the latest events, it was inevitable that there would be a new set of rules she would be informed of, about how to conduct the children´s education from now on. Changes – as much as he hated them – would be inevitable.

The problem was that he had absolutely no idea, no clue at all, about what the new rules would be. He planned to figure out everything while riding this morning, but Friedrich had spoiled his plans – and the governess too, to a certain extent. He was now at a loss, something that he was not used to. All because of a governess. An _insignificant_ little governess.

_Insignificant?_

Hardly, although he hated to admit that, at least for the moment. Oh yes, the governess was a real thorn in his side that morning. He could not avoid thinking about her, although now he knew it would be wise to direct such thoughts only towards things related to the children and _nothing _else.

He had already spent half of the night awake considering the problem of the new household rules, and frankly there had been times when he had considered the absurd possibility that, as far as Fräulein Maria was concerned, _there should be no rules at all._

What for?

She would simply ignore them whenever she felt like it. At times he believed that underneath her wimple and her dowdy dresses lived the soul of an anarchist at heart! On the other hand, he could not – correction, he _would_ not – simply give her free reign and allow her to do as she pleased just because she was what she was. The result, he feared, would be just as disastrous as his now old, strict methods.

No, there should be a way to compromise. There must be a way, because _not _compromising would be impossible. If there was anything about the whole situation that remained unchanged since the day he had left for Vienna weeks before was that, though for entirely different reasons, he was still… _stuck_ with the unlikely, _not-so-insignificant,_ governess.

He needed more time to think, to strategize, to figure out what the best course of action would be. Unfortunately, he had less than one hour to do that before she barged into his study, in all likelihood making a spectacle of the simple action of knocking on a door and opening it.

He punched his desk.

"Why is it that every little thing about her must be so damned _complicated_?" he grumbled.

Why couldn´t all be straightforward as it always had been between the previous governesses he hired, or with any other servant he ever employed in his household?

He issued an order, they obeyed without question. It was all so magnificently simple! Actually, he considered himself ahead of his own time because in comparison with his peers because whenever it became evident that his subordinates disagreed with his decision, he always made clear that he wanted to hear about their motives, regardless of the fact that he rarely changed his mind. As a self appointed modern aristocrat he had always abhorred the blind obedience, the general peasant-and-master routine that comprised life for a man of his station.

But even all _that_ she had turn upside down, hadn´t she?

There was no way he would be get out of that first confrontation with her. He had given her his word. More than just his word, he had given her a direct order:

"_Be in my study tomorrow morning at ten…_"

Postponing the meeting would be unthinkable, unless he had a very good reason for it. At least a very good excuse, he smirked.

There was a knock at the door.

"_Already_?" he wondered. Glancing at the clock, he saw that, if it was indeed the governess, then she was twenty six minutes early. He shrugged. "_Oh well, if she makes it a habit to be inexcusably late for everything, then the opposite might also be true. She can be inexcusably early as well. Why can´t she _ever_ do _exactly_ what she´s been told to do?"_

"Come in, Fräulein" he said, keeping his voice stern.

14


	5. Chapter 5

**The Sound of Music Chronicles**

**Part II **

**Interlude**

**Chapter 05**

_**Perfect excuses and pleasant surprises**_

"_**Never ruin an apology with an excuse." **_

_**Kimberly Johnson**_

"_Come in, Fräulein."_

His voice was firm; he spoke with the authoritarian tone that contributed to making him a notorious commander in the Navy. It was all wasted, because instead of the pixie looking governess, his butler entered the study. The effect was akin to a dive in the Danube in the middle of winter, every bit as unpleasant. Georg could almost swear that the temperature in the study had fallen by a degree or two, so icy was the butler´s demeanor. He felt the blood draining from his face, as if somehow, as absurd as the possibility was, Franz was able to read the inappropriate nature of his thoughts. Instantly, he reminded himself that it was precisely the effect that his butler had on most people. Georg always took pride in being one of the few who remained indifferent to Franz´s intimidating presence. Until now.

"Excuse me, Captain. It is not the – ehrm - the _Fräulein,_ sir, it is me."

"Yes, I realized it is you, Franz" he retorted crossly. "What do you want?" Again, the commanding tone, a clear indication that he hadn´t appreciated the man´s veiled impertinence.

"Someone just delivered this _note_ for you at the door, sir. I believe it came from the… from Baron Eberfeld," Franz informed coldly, handling him an envelope.

"A note from Baron Eberfeld?" His expression relaxed immediately, the governess and all other problematic members of his household staff momentarily forgotten. "What a pleasant surprise, I did not even know he was in Salzburg," he added casually, speaking to himself and not the butler.

"You did now know _who _was in Salzburg, darling?" asked Elsa, walking into the room like a morning breeze in a cloud of lavender chiffon, soft and fragrant, solemnly ignoring Franz as she walked past him. If Max followed her, conscientious of his duties as a chaperon, he never even noticed, not at first.

"Darling, I must say that you are a sight for my tired eyes," he complimented her, flirtatiously, rising from his chair. "You are exactly what I needed this morning to help me recover my sanity," he bent down and kissed her hand. It was true, after all, the sight of Elsa was a welcome reminder of how things _should_ be, and it did wonders to restore his mood and help bring his mind back to sanity.

"Oh my, _someone_ woke up very inspired this morning! Is the mere sight of me the cause of it or is it the _pleasant surprise_ you were referring to?" she asked teasingly.

"Who else but _you_, my dearest Elsa?"

"Yes, darling, _who_ else?' she murmured back seductively.

There was only the slightest glimmer of suspicion deep in her eyes, something that would go undetected if he did not know her so well. But no, he would not allow such a minor detail to spoil his recently recovered good spirits. Following an impulse, he brought her to his arms and kissed her. It wasn´t quite the kind of kiss he would have stolen from the mysterious woman in his dreams, the kiss that he had woken up wishing for, Yet, it was close enough, satisfying enough to give him some respite and make him feel like he was himself again. Elsa was responding to it eagerly – it had been a while since they had last exchanged such unrestrained caresses. With a groan, he brought her closer and deepened the kiss.

"_Now _that_ was the problem. This is what I needed,_" he thought. "_I spent years at sea, and deprivation never affected me so strongly…"_

Max Detweiler – who was, by now, tired of being ignored, cleared his throat. The couple parted almost instantly, only then realizing that they were not alone.

"Max!" Georg exclaimed. "You timing is perfect, as usual."

"I did not see you back there, you sneak," Elsa said, quickly rearranging her hair back into a near perfect coiffure. "Georg is absolutely right about you. You certainly pick the worst possible moments to start _chaperoning._ How very wicked of you!"

"I would gladly remain invisible, my darlings, but it was impossible under the circumstances. You two are grown ups, you don´t need me fussing around you all the time."

"I´m glad you realize that," Georg gritted.

"Ah ha, not so fast, don´t count your blessings just yet, Captain," the impresario said. "You know, there times when I just can´t help myself. On such occasions, never mind propriety: I must stay and make my presence known. I am like one of those genies who jump from the magic bottle whenever someone says the magic word."

"What magic word?" Georg asked curtly. "It seems you have too many of them. Half of the ones in the German language, I should say," he mumbled.

"Georg, please don´t start grumbling. You look much too handsome this morning, it will spoil you and I won´t allow it." She turned to Max. "And _you_, darling, I think you are spending a little too much time with the Captain´s children," Elsa said laughingly, still slightly flushed from their earlier kiss. "Genies and magic words? I must ask as well: what magic word is that?"

"_Surprises_ – you know how much I can´t resist them! My feet refused to move when I heard that word being uttered. My entire life would be meaningless without them."

"I don´t think this one in particular will change the course of your life, Max. It has nothing to do with the size of my bank account – or yours!" Georg said, and Elsa giggled. "It´s only the Eberfelds," he explained amusingly. "I just received a message from them. I had no idea they would be in the country at this time of the year. They usually prefer to spend the summer in the Riviera, as boring as that sounds" he said opening the envelope.

"The Riviera? _Boring_? Oh Georg!" Elsa moaned. "I was hoping to drag you there myself before the end of the summer. Innocent little me," she pouted.

"There will be no need for you to _drag_ me anywhere, darling. I think you will find that my plans for the rest of the summer are far more exciting than the French Riviera," he winked, and Elsa´s response was a satisfied smile. "As for this little matter at hand," he gazed at the note, "the Baroness told me they might come to Salzburg on their way to Italy, for a few days only," he informed. "The Baron refuses to leave the country without a visit to Dr. Thürmann first. And, of course there is the matter of delivering invitations to Pauline´s wedding."

"Really? I know the girl was engaged, but a wedding already? So soon?" Max´s eyes widened. "Doesn´t that matronly aunt of yours always says that less than one year between a betrothal and a wedding is enough reason for scandal?"

"_Which_ matronly aunt? You must be more specific, we von Trapps have a full collection of them. My father had seven sisters who are all very much alive, well and trying to meddle in my private affairs whenever they have a chance."

"The one who lives in a palace in Vienna."

"Now, that narrows down to three," Georg mused.

"When I agreed to be your chaperon, she gave me an unforgettable one hour lecture, saying that the waiting period is necessary because one must be sure to send the clear message that the marriage isn´t happening all of a sudden because the girl was, you know, "_compromised_"," Max emphasized the idea by mimicking quotation marks with his hands. "Her words, not mine."

"That sounds like Aunt Alicia," Georg smirked. "She is the eldest of my father´s sisters and the self-appointed guardian of the family´s morals. Her standards, I´m afraid, are outdated by at least a century!"

"How absurd," Elsa laughed. Then she winked at Georg. "How do you feel about compromising me again one of these days, darling? I don´t think Aunt Alicia would mind in my case, I don´t think she ever liked me."

"O-ho, Aunt Alicia likes you just fine. She calls you a _paragon_ of Viennese society."

Elsa laughed. Approaching him again, she whispered seductively: "What about you, Georg? Do _you_ like me?"

Max cleared his throat, possibly to hide a giggle. The Captain was taken aback for a second, but reacted quickly. His smile was as charming and his words were every bit as seductive as Elsa´s:

"Sometimes I don´t know if I am not the one being corrupted by you, darling," he chuckled.

"You, my darling? We are practically the same age, but you were already a seasoned sailor, when I was barely out of the schoolroom - if you know what I mean…" She thought for a moment. "Although I _did_ my best to make up for the lost time in the following years," she winked.

It was Georg´s turn to laugh. Yes, things were definitely improving, the world was once more moving as it should. It felt nice to feel _almost_ normal again, at least as normal as he had felt in the past few years.

"Elsa, sometimes you are so delightfully refreshing in your honesty. There is nothing more abhorring than feigned innocence," he said, as image of his governess flashed in his mind. "_No feigned innocence there,_" he thought grimly, "_not a sign of it…_"

"Really? Thank heavens I could not play the innocent even if I tried. It´s been long enough, I don´t remember and I don´t miss it. As for that _honesty_ thing… Perhaps I should try it more often," she whispered seductively.

"Never mind my Aunt Alicia and her prehistoric notions," continued Georg, shaking his head. That talk about _innocence_ and _honesty_ was bringing back unwanted thoughts he needed to banish.

"There is nothing scandalous about young Pauline´s wedding, that I can assure you," he continued. "They call it love at the first sight, I suppose, a force that cannot be resisted," he sneered. "That is the downside of it. There is no power on earth able to stop the impetuousness of youth. One year and an eternity, that is the same thing. I´ve been there, remember? So have you, Elsa, I hope."

"You know, to this day I still don´t understand how you were able to survive those long, _eternal_ twelve months between your betrothal and your marriage, Georg," Elsa said lightly. "If I remember correctly, you were a very impetuous youth, Captain," she nudged him playfully.

"O-ho, it was a combination of factors. The Austrian Navy, a war looming on the horizon, overly protective parents of the bride, not to mention Aunt Alicia´s permanent surveillance and – most importantly…"

"Cold showers," completed Max.

"Still there Max?" He gazed at the impresario leaning against the door. "I was _not_ going to say that," Georg chuckled, pointing a finger to him.

"But you were thinking it!"

"Oh Max, leave him alone, you fiend," exclaimed Elsa protectively. "Just as he was almost back to his old self again. If you keep doing that you´ll ruin all my good work!"

"Fine, I will behave." Max finally entered the room and flung himself in the nearest chair. "Now as for that little surprise of yours… Please tell me about it, Georg. I think I´ve heard about the Eberfeld estate property in Salzburg, but I never had the privilege of being invited – or inviting myself," Max said, touching his moustache. "It is as magnificent as yours?"

Georg shrugged, gazing absent-mindedly at the note again.

"You can be the judge of that yourself, Max. You can see it from your window, I believe. Their property borders mine."

Max gasped, his small eyes widening.

"That dilapidated castle down the hill?"

"They are a very old family – one of the oldest in _Salzburgerland_, in fact. They have owned that estate for at least three centuries," Georg explained.

"I thought it was the kind of place Rumpelstiltskin would live," returned Max, seemingly unimpressed. "Positively decrepit _and_ medieval."

"Max, don´t be so bad," Elsa censored him. "I think Georg prefers to think of it as an architectural treasure."

"As a matter of fact, I do," he chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Although I would appreciate it if one of these days they would think about restoring to its former glory."

"Oh, but that would cost Baron Eberfeld his entire fortune," Max exclaimed.

Elsa chastised him again. "Please, stop talking about money all the time, Max. It is so… _déclassé_!"

"I know. I thought that years and years of living among the aristocracy would finally cure me of that, but never did," Max said. "What can I do, my darling? It is my favorite subject, I´m a _burgeois_ at heart. But you love me anyway, don´t you?"

"You know we do, my dear."

Elsa blew him a kiss, and Georg laughed.

"Max is not entirely wrong, Elsa. Baron Eberfeld is just doing his best to avoid becoming an impoverished European nobleman like the rest of us…"

"There you go again. You? An impoverished nobleman? Never! You simply don´t fit the picture, you are much too clever to allow something like that to happen to you," Max exclaimed, and Elsa cast him a censorious glance. "All right, darling, I´ll say no more."

"What does the Baron want from you?" asked Elsa.

"From _us_, actually. It seems that they arrived from Vienna last night. They heard that we are here…"

"Already!" Elsa exclaimed. "So soon!"

"News do travel fast in these parts, you should be careful. People can be terribly indiscreet," Max chanted. "The efficiency of the channels of communication in Salzburg never ceased to baffle me. Engagements are usually announced before the bride has a ring on her finger; illicit affairs are blown to the four winds before the guilty parts have their firstsecret _rendez-vous_…"

"Yes, amazing, isn´t it?" Georg agreed sarcastically. "Perhaps the scandalmongers in Salzburg already know that we are invited to lunch with Baron and Baroness Eberfeld today. Shall I accept it?"

"But of course!" exclaimed Elsa, delighted. "I would be delighted! His bad hearing doesn´t keep Baron Eberfeld form being a brilliant conversationalist. Watching both of you debating is always a delight."

Georg grinned.

"I will send them a note telling we´ll be on the way. Do you think you can be ready in one hour?"

"Naturally!" Max exclaimed. "At least I can," he added, throwing a knowing, sideways glance to Elsa.

"Oh do be quiet, Max! You are as vain as I am. I never heard of a man who spends half an hour trimming his moustache every morning!"

Georg hardly noticed when they left the study, still bickering. Well, he wanted the perfect excuse, and, by a stroke of good luck, now he had one he simply could not get out of. Refusing an invitation from Baron Eberfeld because he had a previous engagement with the governess of his children was simply – unthinkable! On the other hand, postponing because an elderly, dear old friend of the family suddenly invited you to his home was – _highly possible_. Yes, the day had definitely taken an unexpected turn for the best.

He took the silver boatswain whistle from his pocket and blew a distinctive signal from it. No matter what the governess opinion about the whistle was, he still planned to use it whenever it suited him. He could almost picture the look in her face if she heard the shrill sound, a mixture of surprise and indignation… as a matter of fact, he would be surprised if she did not answer to it herself, if for no other reason than to lecture him about the absurdity – in her opinion – of it.

Pacing restlessly, he waited a whole minute, but there was no answer. Fräulein Maria did not invade his domains either, which was oddly disappointing. Resolutely, he marched out of his study, with the intent to find Frau Schmidt. He ran into the butler instead.

"Franz, I was calling Frau Schmidt but there was no answer. Do you happen to know where she is?" For a mad second he considered the idea that the governess was contaminating all the members of his staff with her tendency to rebelliousness, even Frau Schmidt, who seemed to be keen on her.

"Erhm – it is her hearing, sir. Sometimes she doesn´t…"

"Good morning! I hear you just fine, Captain," the housekeeper said, with an angry look towards the butler. "There is nothing wrong with my hearing. I am sorry, sir, I was merely answering the telephone."

"That will be all, Franz," Georg said tersely, dismissing the butler, who, as usual, seemed reluctant to move from where the action was taking place.

"What can I do for you, Captain?"

"Please go and tell Fräulein Maria that we will be discussing the children some other time. I was just invited to the Eberfeld´s estate for the day and I will leave in one hour with Baroness Schraeder and Herr Detweiler. I don´t think we will be back for dinner."

"All right," the housekeeper said. "Ahem – is there anything else you would like me to tell her, Captain?"

He thought for a moment. There was an idea developing in his mind, and in a rare impulsive action, he decided to put it into practice.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Tell her to take the children to town this afternoon if she wants to. After all the – uh – commotion of yesterday, they do need a brief pause before they start their studies again."

"Very well. Oh, I am sure the children will be delighted!"

"Yes, I´m sure they will."

As she was about to leave, he stopped her.

"Uh – Frau Schmidt?"

"Yes?"

"One more thing: no_ play clothes;_ be sure to tell her that_._ The uniforms will have to do this time. As a matter of fact," he smiled wickedly, "I will ring Madame Fournier and ask her to expect Fräulein Maria and the children at her shop in the _Getreidegasse_ at, shall we say, one o-clock?"

Frau Schmidt´s eyes widened, for this was something unheard off ever since Baroness von Trapp had died.

"But… what shall I say to the governess, Captain? She is a sweet young woman, but I don´t think that a poor convent girl has any idea of how to shop for clothes."

"She doesn´t, but there is no need to give her any details. I will instruct Madame Fournier myself about what I want myself. Just tell her that she must find suitable clothes for the seven of them, that will suffice. She will have _carte blanche_. Three sets for each should be enough for now. I am sure Madame will enlighten my governess in the meaning of _suitable_ if necessary."

"Very well, Captain."

The mirth in the housekeeper´s eyes mirrored his own. He was about to send the governess in a shopping spree with _seven _strong-mindedchildren who still hadn´t completely given up playing their tricks on their governess every now and then. His mirth turned into a low chuckle as he climbed the main stairway.

That should teach that scatterbrained postulant a little something. One should thread very carefully when dealing with a von Trapp. He could not think of a more fitting punishment after she had his children roaming about Salzburg wearing nothing but old curtains!

20


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author´s notes:**_

_**1. To all of you that are still following this story: thank you! It is important for me to know that there are still people interested in it. I really, really appreciate it.**_

**_2. _**_This_ _nothing to do with the chapter ahead, it is a_**_ message to all dear members of our old Proboards forum: _**_I__ was told (thank you IndigoBlue) there are serious problems with the new one, and I am seriously thinking about deleting it. I would be setting up a group or page on Facebook for us to meet: it would be easier for me to manage, since I no longer have the time to run a message board._ _Please PM me if you would be interested in joining. Thanks! _

_:-)_

_S._

**OOOOOOO**

**The Sound of Music Chronicles**

**Part II **

**Interlude**

**Chapter 06**

_**Between the devil and the deep blue sea**_

_**ooooooo**_

"_**Living well is the best revenge."**__**  
><strong>_

_**George Herbert**_

_**ooooooo**_

"_**Without contraries is no progression. Attraction and repulsion, reason and energy, love and hate, are necessary to human existence."**__**  
><strong>_

_**William Blake**_

_**ooooooo**_

"_**I don't want you,**_

_**But I hate to lose you,**_

_**You've got me in between**_

_**The devil and the deep blue sea.**_

_**(…)**_

_**I should hate you,**_

_**But I guess I love you,**_

_**You've got me in between**_

_**The devil and the deep blue sea."**_

_**Harold Arlen, Ted Koehler, Between the devil and the deep blue sea (1932).**_

_**ooooooo**_

There would _not_ be a meeting with Captain von Trapp that morning.

Maria was on her way to the Captain´s study when Frau Schmidt intercepted her with the news. The new orders were for her to turn around and prepare the children to go to town _immediately_. They had an appointment at one in one of the shops in the _Getreidegasse_, owned by Madame _Whatshername,_ to _buy suitable clothes_ for the children, and after that, they could do whatever they wished with the remainder of their time, as long, of course, as they were back home by dinner.

Oh well!

She did not know what to think of it at first. It was strangely… anticlimactic. The news hit her with an impact similar to the feeling of being surrounded by cold water when she fell from the boat. On that occasion, she had welcoming the unexpected coolness in such a hot day, only to start shivering when her body realized how cold the lake was and instantly began to tremble. She did not know what to think of it – there was a great deal of relief, but there was also a vague feeling of… _disappointment._ Something she could not explain, like so many things that had been happening in her life lately.

Despite the fact that she did not allow the upcoming meeting to keep her from having a good night´s sleep the night before, mentally she´d been preparing for since he announced that it would take place. Of course it wasn´t like she was being called by the high command of the Imperial Navy to discuss battle strategies, but somehow it felt that way, whenever she allowed herself to worry too much about it – something she was already learning not to let happen very often. She had tried her best to prepare herself for that meeting, even though by now she knew too well that the Captain never hesitated to use the element of surprise to his advantage whenever it suited him. Well, she intended _not_ to allow that to happen, at least she would try to. She had even rehearsed a few phrases, had tried to guess what his arguments would be and what she could possibly to say to fight them.

Yes, there would certainly be unpredictable arguments coming from the Captain, but she would be able to handle those very easily – at least she hoped she would. Well, more than only unpredictable – _unbreakable._ The man´s logic was flawless, it would be impossible to fight his premises using rationality alone. No, she would have to resort to something else… It had worked the day before, there should not be any reason for her to doubt it would not happen again…

Should it?

The day before, she had the element of surprise in her favor. It had been the formidable Captain von Trapp who had been taken completely by surprise by… by _everything_! His children climbing trees, falling on the water, wearing the play clothes and – the icing on the cake – singing for him and his guests. Maria had to recognize that it must have been too much for his logical brain cells to handle. This morning, on the other hand, his mind would be rested after a good night´s sleep. Wouldn´t he place logic, his militaristic rules and everything else once again above his children?

Optimistic as she had always had been, it was something she would have to be prepared for. He did not seem at all like a man who made the same mistake twice. Luckily, she had a few weapons of her own. Maria might not have a great deal of experience, but she was, after all, a trained teacher, with a degree from a respectable Viennese school for girls. A _progressive_ school, one might add. The nuns knew that and considered her skills a fine asset to the Abbey, they trusted her enough to, from time to time, put her in charge of the children of the orphanage, whenever one of them who usually taught them was unavailable. All things considered, there was a chance that every single one of his outdated ideas could be fought and won with his own weapons, rationally and very, very _scientifically_.

Naturally, there was _one_ unpredictability she had never counted on – that the meeting would not take place at all. Instead, she was ordered to take the children to Salzburg to _buy clothes_ for them_._

Maria gulped.

She did not know which perspective was more daunting: to face Captain von Trapp in the light of day after his apology or going to some exclusive boutique downtown to _buy clothes_ for seven children with ages ranging from five to sixteen-going-on-seventeen. It felt as if she was caught "_between_ _the devil and the deep blue sea"…_ She laughed, thinking that she could not have picked a better idiom to describe the situation.

Well, what mattered in the end was that spending a day in town with the children was a pleasant possibility to look forward to. Such occasions had been rare in the past weeks, during the Captain´s absence, and she intended to make the most of it, even if there were other things to be considered.

A beautiful sunny day in Salzburg, one quarter of it spent inside a shop with seven children…

Oh dear, _dear_!

Vaguely, she recalled someone telling her that in the Navy, he was such a cunning strategist that his tactics bordered on being _devilish_. Well, if this was true and if, by any chance this was his idea of a little revenge because of all the trouble she caused, she would have to congratulate him – but she would also have to make sure that his diabolical plans to have a little fun at her expense went up in smoke.

"_Two can play the same game, Captain,_" she thought, mimicking his smirk. "_Make no mistake, by dinnertime you shall have your seven children with two brand new complete sets of presentable clothes to wear. Yes, you will fall on your face – _again._" _

Oh, she could only hope that whatever they had to choose from would be even worse than those straitjackets - or sailor uniforms, as he preferred to call them!

She would face whatever was ahead, brilliantly if she could possibly manage. It was a part of the reason why she had stayed after all, that was something she needed to remember always. It did not matter that _buying clothes_ would be an entirely new experience to her. In Maria´s universe, clothes were either made or passed on from one person to another, never bought. In any case, she just _knew _she could handle another new experience in life just fine – it was, after all, all she had been doing for the past month or so.

Yet, there was something about those exclusive shops in the Getreidegasse she found utterly _intimidating. _She remembered that on the first winter after she arrived in Salzburg she had fallen in love with a scarf she´d seen on display in an elegant shop. She hardly noticed how exclusive the place was, she only saw the scarf, hand knitted in tones of lavender, pink and blue. Impulsively, she walked inside and asked how much it would cost, out of curiosity only because she didn´t have a single coin in her pocket. The woman who owned the store – well, at least she _looked_ like she owned it – looked at her as if she were a freak of nature and practically shoved her out. Later, when she told Theresa about the humiliating experience, her friend had burst on laughing.

"_You should not have asked for the price, Maria. It is simply not done! If you wanted it, you should have just bought it._"

"_But how on earth am I supposed to buy something if I don´t know how much it cost?" _she asked, not mentioning the fact that she actually did not have any money with her that day.

"_Well, actually the people who go to that shop don´t have the kind of problem, Maria,"_ Theresa had replied, still giggling.

"_So I just… _buy it?"

"_Yes?"_

"_What if I realize I cannot afford the moment I am supposed to pay? Wouldn´t that turn out to be even more humiliating than simply asking for the price in the first place?"_

Theresa had rolled her eyes. Maria knew then that it was useless to continued arguing. Theresa´s world was filled with secret, unwritten rules that only those who were born to it knew about. Those appeared to be exactly the same rules that Captain von Trapp and his peers lived by. All she could do was to keep her ears open and learn as much as she could, although she already had one or two very important questions to ask Theresa as soon as she had a chance to visit the Abbey…

In the end, the shopping spree went better than Maria could have hoped for.

She had been wearing one of her new frocks that day, her least favorite one as a matter of fact, but the only one that was wearable after the succession of mishaps that ended with the fall in the lake. In all honesty, she dreaded the color – it was _brown_. But it was also practical and comfortable, perfectly suitable for her work. All the von Trapp children were wearing their sailor suits again – Captain´s orders, she had been told by Frau Schmidt. Clearly, he had no intention of seeing them in those clothes again.

For once, she decided not to rebel. One of the first things she heard as she was coming down for breakfast had been his boatswain whistle. It made her stop cold in the middle of the stairs and stomp one foot in indignation. It wasn´t _her sign,_ which was quite fortunate, because if it were, she would be forced to start the day with another ugly confrontation with her employer. Well, she might just do it anyway.

"_Don´t do it, Maria,_" a voice inside her said. "_It is too early to ruin what you accomplished yesterday. He needs time, give it to him."_

Sighing, she turned to the opposite direction, to join the children for breakfast. As soon as they were finished, Frau Schmidt had told her the new orders.

Madame Fournier´s shop in Salzburg´s main street specialized in fine children´s clothes, and, perhaps for the reason, it was not quite as intimidating. Quite the contrary, it was quite beautiful, and the woman seemed to have done a great effort to make it attractive to children as well, not only their parents. The girl´s session was decorated as a doll house, in every imaginable shade of pink; the boy´s section was like the interior of a pirate ship, plank and all. Needless to say that the children loved it, especially the girls.

The owner was an elderly Frenchwoman, as thin as a rake and with a very strong accent she had ever heard, which was hard to understand at first. Maria was greeted with extreme politeness and formality, and relaxed as soon as she heard that the Captain had already given her plenty of specific instructions about what should be bought, so all she had to do was to let her the woman do her job, help the children make their choices and make sure that they _behaved_.

They did try to rebel, to act out a first. It was nothing that Maria would not have expected, they were still a bit wary and suspicious of their new governess and they wasted no opportunity to try to intimidate her. However, she soon defeated her with her particular brand of _firm but kind_ approach to disciplining them, not to mention the promise that, as soon as they finished their task, she would take them all ice creams and a stroll in the Mirabell Gardens, their favorite place in Salzburg.

The one and only downside of the whole experience was Liesl´s sullenness, which began the moment the sixteen realized that she would not find clothes that she considered appropriate for her age in Madame Fournier´s store. Maria had to use the best diplomatic skills she hardly knew she possessed, but she managed to convince her that they would speak to the Captain about the subject, but that she still had to choose two frocks, otherwise she would have nothing to wear for the next few days. Liesl finally agreed and very reluctantly made her choices, but she still sulked throughout most of the rest of the day.

Perhaps Liesl´s moodiness was one of the reasons why the incident by the Pegasus Fountain at the Mirabell Gardens would have some unexpected consequences in the near future. Of course it was impossible to know when it all happened. It was all quite innocent and it did not disturb her. Actually, she would not have given the matter another thought ever again. If Liesl wasn´t so sullen, there was a chance she would never give it any importance of all, and would not provoke her brothers and sisters.

At any rate, Liesl did not waste the precious opportunity when it presented itself – a chance for her to have a little revenge upon the poor governess who insisted that she bought frocks that she believed were too childlike for her.

"Look – Fräulein Maria has an admirer," the girl said giggling.

"I have a _what?_" Maria asked, frowning.

"There, by the fountain. He´s been following us – oh well, _you,_ Fräulein, for quite a while now, ever since we crossed the bridge," Liesl informed with a wink. "_I_ noticed!"

It was nothing but sheer curiosity that made Maria turn her head to give her so-called admirer a critical look. When she recognized him, she broke into a genuine smile.

"Oh, _him_!" She laughed. "He is not an admirer, he is just an old friend. His name is Werner Lueger, and his mother cooks for the orphanage and sometimes for the convent when the nuns are too busy. He plays the violin beautifully, and he… _What?_" she asked when the Liesl looked at her, distrustfully. Louisa had already joined her and was staring at her in the same manner.

Maria stole a quick glance at Werner, who now seemed to be busy staring at his own shoes and whistling, pretending that he had not seen her. It was so very strange, the boy had never behaved in that peculiar manner before.

Maria cleared her throat.

"Ooohhh, I am sure it is you Werner is looking at, Liesl, not me!"

It made perfect sense. The sixteen year old was quite a striking beauty with her porcelain skin and large blue eyes. Understandably, she was just beginning to catch the attention not only of telegram deliverers but of every young man who walked past her, titled or not. It would more than reasonable to assume that it was Liesl who was drawing some attention in the streets of Salzburg, not her, Maria.

"In fact, he is only a bit older than you are, his mother told me he turned eighteen last winter" she added, when she noticed that Liesl was not so easily convinced. In fact, she was shaking her head, vigorously.

"No, Fräulein, I am quite sure it is _you_!"

"Oh dear!" she moaned. If she was just another ordinary girl, she might be even flattered, perhaps a little amused, but as a future nun, she was most definitely not. She did not know what to think of it.

"I don´t like him, he is _ugly_," little Gretl interrupted.

"You are not going to marry him, are you?" Kurt asked suspiciously.

Maria rolled her eyes. "I am not going to marry anyone, children."

"Never?"

"Never ever. I´m going to be a nun, remember? Nuns do not marry, there are no exceptions to this rule," she clarified.

"I hope you will not marry him anyway, because he is quite… _hideous. _He looks like a broomstick," little Marta said while her younger sister giggled. Perhaps Maria should say to her that being ugly was not an acceptable reason not to like someone, but she had to admit that Marta had described Werner perfectly. Yes, as lanky and scrawny as he was, he was not ridiculously attractive like the eccentric naval captain who was also her employer, but…

How ridiculously silly! Captain von Trapp was one of a kind, and she should not dedicate herself to comparing every other man she saw with him! There she was thinking the most inappropriate thoughts about the man that was her employer again!

But before Maria could say anything else to defend poor Werner, Friedrich stepped in front of her, protectively.

"He still stares. Is he bothering you, Fräulein? Because if he is, I can certainly… do… do something about it."

"Ooh?"

"Father said you are under his protection while you are our governess, and since he is… oh well, not here, you are under – ehm - under _my _protection." Maria´s eyebrows raised involuntarily, her jaw dropped slightly. "I´ll break every bone in his body if I have to," the boy said between clenched teeth, sounding and looking so much like his father that Maria had to smile. She could almost _hear_ the Captain uttering those same words, and there was a curious little fluttering inside when she thought of how he would sound.

"I… I…" the boy stopped speaking. Liesl giggled, Brigitta began rolling her eyes in exasperation, Kurt started laughing, clutching his stomach and Louisa made a mocking comment about Friedrich considering himself "_the man of the house_"in his father´s absence. Friedrich visibly resented their reaction, and Maria could swear there were tears forming in his eyes.

"_Good, that is all I needed now. How do I get out this one without hurting the poor boy´s pride? On the other hand, it would not do any good for me, to be the reason why Friedrich von Trapp got into a fistfight in one of the most famous gardens in Salzburg! I know Werner has quite a temper himself and he simply would not be silent if provoked. The Captain would have his hands around my neck before I could even say… Captain! Even the Reverend Mother would be dismayed. The nuns are all so fond of Werner and his mother, Frau Lueger. Sister Berthe would simply throw me out of the window!"_

"Ahem…" Maria chose her words carefully. "That is very chivalrous of you, Friedrich. Yes, you _are_ the man in the house in your father absence, and you are doing a marvelous job so far, but there is no need to… break any of Herr Lueger´s bones. He means no harm. I am sure he is only feeling a bit shy to come up and say hello to me. Look!"

That being said, she turned around to face Werner, waving her arms up and down in her typical, exuberant manner.

"Werner! Here! Hallo!"

The result was rather… _astonishing,_ so much that her jaw dropped in amazement.

She half expected Werner to smile and wave back in the same boisterous manner, then come to shake her hand, as he usually did. Next, she would inquire about his mother, and ask him how he was doing with his musical studies. But none of that happened. Instead of reacting the way she had expected him to, the boy´s face became beet red as if he indeed had been caught doing something wrong. He simply lowered his head and walked away briskly, without looking back. She was never sure what caused it, so she concluded that he was intimidated by the seven children from ages five to sixteen glaring at him.

"How _rude_!" Brigitta exclaimed.

Maria could not help but to agree with her. Her friendly look to the young man immediately turned into a hurtful glare, accompanied by an ugly frown.

"That scowl – you stole it from father, didn´t you?" Louisa asked, mischievously.

"As a matter of fact, I stole it from Sister Berthe. Your father should take a few lessons with _her_," Maria replied solemnly, and the incident ended in laughter, while she made a little mental note to give Werner a piece of her mind the next time she met him, saying exactly what she thought of his appalling display of bad manners in front of children of such a distinguished family.

"I told you so," Liesl said smugly. "He was following _you_. He would not have scurried like that if he was not!"

"Mmm," Maria frowned – then she shrugged and started leading them to the bus stop. It was time to go back home.

Later, she would consider the fact that she had missed the precious opportunity to ask the children not to tell their father about the incident. The request had been at the tip of her tongue, when she realized that they would certainly demand to know _why_ she did not want the Captain to know.

Her motives were very simple, however. She was going to be a nun, for heaven´s sake! What would he think if he as much as _suspected_ that she had male admirers following her on the streets of Salzburg? Although her mind still refused to accept the idea of Werner Lueger thinking about her like that, she was certain that Liesl would be able to convince the Captain otherwise. And if Liesl convinced the Captain, the Captain would convince the nuns, and she would be in much more trouble than she ever asked for.

No, she did not need yet another reason for her employer to dislike her, or for the nuns to keep arguing about her suitability for the religious life.

_Silence_ was the best thing to do. Eventually, she would heva to get used to it, since it was one of the vows she would soon be taking – why not try to start now? She would not mention the incident again. It wouldn´t be so hard, she had too many reasons to keep her running mouth under control. She would simply forget about it, and certainly the children would too.

At least, that was what she hoped would happen!


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: I started to revise this chapter to publish it here, and it became too long, so I had to divide it in two parts. If you read it before in the old forum, you´ll notice that it was expanded. Part II is coming in the next few days. Georg and Maria, finally - enjoy!**_

**ooooooo**

**The Sound of Music Chronicles**

**Part II **

**Interlude**

**Chapter 07**

_**A nightcap – part I**_

**"_The most powerful symptom of love is a tenderness which becomes at times almost insupportable."_**

**_Victor Hugo _**

**ooooooo**

"_**Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship." **_

_**Oscar Wilde **_

The day with the Eberfelds was rather pleasant.

In the end, even Max had to revise his opinion and conclude that the Baron´s castle was not so decrepit after all. _Rumpelstiltskin_ would envy it! To Georg, it was like going back a few weeks in the past, when he had his worries with the children, but when their governesses were easily dismissed from his mind as soon as he sent them packing.

Nowadays, Georg still worried, and it was all the more upsetting because he could _not_ get rid of governess number twelve, troublesome Fräulein Maria. It was as if she was some kind of sorceress who put a spell on him: he _wanted_ to send her away, he _needed_ to, but he simply _could not! _Frankly, there were times when he wondered if things had improved at all, but then he remembered his children singing _Edelweiss_ and quickly changed his mind. Sorceress or not, the least that he could do was to give the Fräulein and the Reverend Mother his trust, at least for a while.

However, spending a day with the Eberfelds in their idyllic castle had been at least pleasant interlude before he focused his full attention in his family again. They laughed, they gossiped, they drank wine from the Baron´s cellar, straight from the family vineyard in the Steiermark, which was known as one of the best in Austria. Needless to say, he flirted shamelessly with Elsa, and there was even the time for some heated moments in the garden maze while Baron and Baroness Eberfeld were busy showing Max the Castle´s notorious… torture chamber. It was all so refreshingly delightful that it became impossible to refuse their kind invitation to stay for dinner as well. By the time Georg von Trapp and his guests returned to the villa it was late in the evening, pleasantly inebriated, the children and their governess had already retired.

After bidding good night to Elsa and Max, Georg decided to linger in his study, which was something he normally did after everybody had gone to bed and the house was silent. He intended to stay there until he was overcome with lethargy - it was usually the only chance he had to get some decent sleep during the night, without waking up in a cold sweat, after having dreamed he was next to his beloved wife in that cursed hospital bed, holding her while she let out her last breath. Or, more specifically, as it was tonight´s case, finding himself unable to remember her face, only to start chasing a "_phantom of delight_"_ –_ in Wordsworth very appropriate words - around the house, the lovely creature who tormented him by keeping her face hidden, but who was so alluring that he woke up wishing to feel their kiss on his lips...

No, he would not allow that to happen again. He could not, for the sake of his mental integrity.

That evening, as it was not infrequent, his body was tired, but his mind was fully awake. He predicted he would have more trouble than usual with falling asleep. Every little noise he head coming from every corner of the house was enough to put him in a state of alert – perhaps another consequence of the disturbing dream of the previous night. A clock tickling, a door carelessly left ajar, footsteps…

_Footsteps?_

There should _not_ be any footsteps at this hour!

It was one of his sacred household rules; he had strictly forbidden _anyone_ to wander in the hallways after hours. He had no wish to be surprised by anyone during his nocturnal activities. There were a number of very good reasons for it, and one of them was his own pride. The last thing he wanted was to be seen at his worst, during when nothing he did was able to assuage the pain of his grief. In those moments it was all there, clearly etched in his face. Unlike the tortured opera ghost in the celebrated Leroux novel (1), he needed no mask to hide his scars, they were there for all to see. The least he could to would be to spare himself of that.

The unwelcome noise was persistent enough to bring him into a full state of alert – a natural response after years of strict military training. This was no ethereal apparition invading his dreams; this one was not walking so lightly that it appeared she floated above the ground. He was wide awake and this was very real, the steps were heavy, noisy, belonging to someone who wasn´t making the least effort to be silent.

"Who the hell is up and about at this hour?" he grumbled, as he started to follow the sound, making his way towards the source of the noise – the kitchen -, with the intent to scold whoever had disturbed his peace. His anger gave way to reason when he was half way there. Maybe a nightcap would help, he thought. Maybe the mysterious kitchen raider would prove not to be such bad company after all…

He wondered briefly who his fellow insomniac could be. Max, maybe? Hardly likely. Max would not be concerned about not waking up the entire house, but the impresario had the irritating habit of sleeping like the dead under any circumstances. A full attack of an enemy fleet would not wake him up. Most likely, it was not Elsa either, who _did_ walk graciously as if floating on air. However, she would ask her own maid to fetch something for her if she needed something and never come down to the kitchen herself. Smirking, he thought that he doubted that his elegant would-be fiancée had ever set her dainty feet in a galley in her entire life! The children had the habit of invading the kitchen now and then, but in the middle of the night they would go to their Fräulein, who would certainly…

He stopped cold when he saw her there at that very moment.

Oh yes. _The Fräulein._

The governess was sitting at the kitchen table, in the act of pouring a steaming liquid into a china teacup. She wore the same bizarre nightgown he had the night she arrived, this time with an unattractive robe of an unspeakable color over it.

What had he been expecting? Silk and lace?

She was a postulant from Nonnberg Abbey completely out of her universe, wearing clothes that even the poorest among the poor in Salzburg rejected. He doubted she had anything in her wardrobe resembling the gauzy, flimsy white thing that the lovely apparition in his dream was wearing. Not that it was something a prospective nun would ever wear, in any case. The formidable Sister Berthe would look the poor Fräulein in the dungeons of Nonnberg - if such a place existed - if she saw her wearing something like what his imagination had fathomed for the woman in his dream.

Musings aside, he took the opportunity to watch her for a moment or two, before making his presence known. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, oblivious of her surroundings.

At first he thought she was crying, but almost instantly he realized his mistake. For the first time since he had first met her, the little Fräulein did not look well. She looked tired and overwrought – that undoubtedly a consequence of a shopping spree with seven children. Her nose was red, as if she had repeatedly sneezed – another consequence, this one of a dip in his lake. The sight tugged at his heart, and he felt for the first time this absurd need to comfort and protect her somehow... as absurd as the notion was. Well, the least he could do now would be to advise her to go back to bed, for she did not look well. Later, there would be time for reprimanding her for the little transgression.

"Good evening!" he greeted softly, before he could stop himself.

"Captain!" she exclaimed, clutching one hand to her heart. "Oh dear!" Clearly, he had spooked her, but he chose not to apologize.

"Hah! I was wondering who the other insomniac in the house was. Now I know. I must say that I am _not_ surprised, but I thought I was the only one here who had developed the habit of wandering around the house in the middle of the night like a ghost or – raiding the galley," he said quickly, resorting to cynicism to drive away such inappropriate thoughts.

"You know – uh, you do look terrible," he blurted.

What was the matter with him? He could have punched himself for that one. Agathe would certainly kick his shin, he remembered, wincing. He wasn´t used to behaving so appallingly with a woman, no matter her social status was. It did not matter that the unfortunate comment was about her health, not her general appearance. He had been brought up to be the perfect gentleman, and that was what he tried to be all the time. Yet, he did not recall being so blunt, not even with his wife. Well, it was just one more in the endless string of irrational behaviors that this governess triggered on him.

"Thank you," she murmured, rolling her eyes in amusement – a surprising reaction, he thought. There was also just the perfect amount of sarcasm, something that, as he discovered, was not so atypical of her at all, whenever she was provoked. Nonetheless, her reaction relaxed him – the governess was in no mood for bickering that night, and he intended to keep things that way.

"You do not look your best tonight either, I should add," she murmured acidly, drowning her words in a large sip of her tea. Well, he more than deserved the barb, he had to acknowledge. He acknowledged something else as well: it was very subtle, she was quick, but it was very noticeable – her eyes narrowed as she scanned him, from head to toe, but never venturing above his neck. Whatever the result of her assessment was, she kept to herself – her eyes fell to the blasted teacup again, and she shrugged.

"Mmmm," he muttered, wondering what to make of her peculiar reaction. He was anything but vain, but he knew wasn´t exactly, _unkempt,_ he rarely venture outside his bedroom looking less than presentable. What was it then that was so extraordinary?

"Ehm - the _galley_?" she asked abruptly frowning, still besotted with whatever was inside that teacup, for she still had not looked straight at him.

"The kitchen," he said, having forgotten for a moment that she wasn´t at all familiar to the naval jargons that sometimes slipped so easily into his informal speech from time to time.

"Oh. No, but… I am… I mean, I was only…" she stuttered.

"…planning a mutiny, Fräulein?" he provoked. "_Again?_"

"No, I… I´m sorry, I… If you excuse me, Captain, I…"

She made a motion to get up, but he stopped her with a gesture. "No, no, no. Stay where you are and enjoy your tea. It will do you good, under the circumstances. In fact, I think I'll have one myself, if you don´t mind."

"No. I mean _yes_, of course I don´t mind."

Fräulein Maria looked down. It was unsettling to see her like this, so withdrawn, the veritable force of nature that she was, and, at the same time, so… _fidgety_. Her restless fingers tapped against the outside of the porcelain cup she held in her hands and his attention was immediately drawn, not to the teacup, but to her hands. He had never paid any particular attention to her hands before – he never had any reason to, why should he? They were simply governess´s hands – an _insignificant_ governess, he reminded himself. Yet, they were naturally elegant, long fingered and not quite what he would have expected to find in a farm girl, probably used to hard work. On the other hand, naturally, they were not exquisitely manicured like Elsa's hands. Fräulein Maria kept her fingernails shortly trimmed, and there wasn't the slightest hint of nail polish, or any other concession to vanity. The skin was marked here and there by tiny cuts and nicks, a testimony to her active life, climbing trees and mountains, picking wildflowers and things of that sort. In her right hand, just below her thumb, he saw the unmistakable imprint of… a small child's teeth.

"_Gretl,_" he thought, smiling.

"I am curious - what sort of concoction is that?" he asked her, with the intent to force her to break her silence, pointing to the warm liquid she was staring at so intently. Her fingers stilled.

"Oh this? Just an old family recipe," she sighed. "Peppermint, honey and… hmmm… a few other things." She did sound bad, her voice hoarse and he grimaced in reaction.

"You do sound as terrible as you look," he muttered, impulsively.

There – he had done it again! What was it about the little nun that, if he forgot himself, he would resort to extreme familiarity when speaking to her? He wasn´t usually so… so honest. It was the kind of thing he would say to a very close friend such as Max, or to one of his children until a couple of years ago, but not to Elsa, and, least of all, never to a mere governess!

This time, however, his careless remark seemed to strike some kind of forgotten female chord deep inside her, perhaps some small glimmer of vanity that the life in a convent hadn´t managed to suffocate. She cleared her throat and murmured another ironic "_thank you,_" this time clearly showing her displeasure through the tone of her voice.

Nevertheless, the Fräulein´s next actions baffled him. When he half expected she would start an argument with him because of his ungentlemanly remarks, his governess, instead was suddenly overcome with one of her verbal outbursts. Apparently, sore throat or not, she could talk endlessly, incessantly and without any kind of control about whatever came out of her mouth, but she was not fond of repeating herself, he realized with a smirk. It caused him to wonder if, for her, talking wasn´t a form of self-defense, a way to cover her inadequacies, and if she did not hide behind it like he hid behind his dark wit and sarcasm…

Whatever it was, he did his best to keep his attention focused on her uncontrolled words as she began to give him the complete recipe of the suspicious brew she was drinking. She began by naming an unlikely mixture of herbs and spices that could be appealing separately, but not together in the same brew. Whatever it was, a good dose of brandy would make it easier to swallow. He wondered what she would think if he suggested that. He wagered that not a single drop of alcohol had ever touched her lips.

_Peppermint_ _and honey…_

He wondered if one could taste those if he kissed her. Her lips were now moist and slightly swollen because of the hot tea she had been drinking. For the second time in just a few minutes, he experienced another absurd reaction, this one entirely different than the one before. He no longer wanted to merely comfort her, he wanted to kiss her, like he had wanted to kiss the woman in the dream, kiss those moist, peppermint sweet lips that…

"Captain!" Her voice brought him back to his senses.

"Mmm?"

"Are you well?"

"I'm sorry, Fräulein, I was - far away." No, not really, of course, he had been right there with her all the time, closer than she could possibly imagine. "I must be more tired than I realized. Did you just – uh - say something?"

"Yes!" She rolled her eyes impatiently. "I was saying that I _know_ I am not supposed to wander around the house after hours but sometimes I can't sleep and… oh – oh – oh - hold on a moment…" She sneezed, quite loudly, covering her nose with a handkerchief.

"_Gesundheit_!"

"Thank you." She took another large sip of the fragrant tea. "This is terrible, you were absolutely right. You see now? I needed to do something about _this_ and my sore throat, otherwise I won't be able to even speak to the children in the morning, let alone teach them yodel…" She stopped herself suddenly, looking slightly guilty, as if she was just about to betray a secret. He resisted the temptation to ask her why on earth she was teaching the children to yodel.

"That would be quite torturous to you, wouldn't it? Not being able to speak," was his biting remark.

"That won't happen, Captain. I was fine all day, as a matter of fact, but after dinner it got worse again and I just had to do something about it. People like me can hardly afford the luxury of being sick," she retorted absentmindedly, then sneezed again, three times in quick succession. "That is why I _always_ take good care of myself."

He clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the old temptation of simply yelling at her. What was it about that girl and her unique talent for disturbing him and stepping in his toes? Didn't she know that after three years of grief, sickness was still a delicate subject to him? Didn't she guess? His wife always took good care of herself and in the end…

"_How could she know?_" a voice in his conscience spoke, a voice just like Agathe´s. It was enough to soften him. "_Calm down, Georg. She cannot know about what you have been though, it is not her fault. She speaks whatever is in her mind, things that simply are there."_

He sighed.

"Everybody gets sick once in a while, Fräulein, it can hardly be called a _luxury_. Baronesses or governesses, social class has nothing to do with it. Even the aristocracy isn't immune to anything – no one better than I know that," he said drily, starting to open some pantry doors below his head, not without noting that her face had paled, as she obviously became conscious of her _faux-pas_. "Now, where the devil does the cook keep the teacups?"

"Second door to your right," she said stiffly. "I'm sorry; I meant no offense to you, Captain. I have work to do here, God´s errand, remember? Since I always took care of myself, I would be in a lot of trouble if I were bed ridden. Trust me, not unlike you, I learned it the hard way."

There – a perfectly logical, rational explanation. But why he could not help himself, he _had_ to question it?

"I doubt it. If you had, you should have thought twice before jumping into a cold lake," he said.

"_The boat tipped over_, I did not jump. I _fell._" she defended herself, vehemently. "Besides, I did not know the lake was cold, it was a particularly warm day…"

"It´s molten snow from the mountains, what else did you expect, Fräulein, a tepid bathtub? However, this is hardly a good argument in your favor: you did know the lake was cold the second time you jumped in it."

"I wouldn´t have to if you had helped me to secure the boat!"

Georg braced himself to hear the rest of her accusations, but they never came. He couldn´t help but briefly imagining why hadn´t she mentioned the most obvious cause of her distress, that he hadn´t allowed her to go inside and change into dry clothes, demanding her to stay until he lashed out his fury at her.

"It is still beyond me, how you managed to accomplish that shipwreck," He kept rambling about the incident, all of a sudden finding her annoyance utterly… charming. "The water was calm, there was no wind, and the lake looked like a mirror. Even a mud-duck could manage to sail in those conditions."

Her answer was to roll her eyes and look heavenwards, then at him. "There were seven children with me on the boat. We were not sailing, we were rowing. And I have no idea what a mud-duck is."

"A shallow water sailor," he spat, impatiently.

She remained silent, while he poured himself cup of her tea, and then sat next to her. He took a large sip. The taste surprised him.

"This is…" Her eyes widened, expectantly, and he did not disappoint her. "… _unexpected. _It is not as vile as I thought it would be!"

"Of course it isn´t! My aunt used to say "_if it doesn't taste good, it won't cure you_"."

"That is utterly absurd, of course, I am sure you realize that!"

She shrugged. "She was a farmer's wife, not a doctor."

"Mmmm." A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I must admit that I wish I had her in my family while I was growing up because my grandmother used to say just the opposite," he chuckled. To his amusement, the governess shuddered in revulsion. "Tell me, am I detecting a slight taste of…"

"Just a few drops – ehrm - for medicinal purposes, of course," she clarified, quickly, undoubtedly afraid he would be angry at her for raiding his prized wine cellar as well. Not that she would have needed to do that, she would find what she needed right here in the kitchen. It was a known fact that the cook was particularly fond of the brand of schnapps with which she had laced her tea.

"Yes, yes, if course. All a part of your – uh - family recipe, I assume."

"Certainly!" she exclaimed, slightly offended. "Some would say that it is the main ingredient."

"I thought so." He chuckled. "As a matter of fact, I wonder if your medicinal tea would be more effective if you removed all other ingredients and only left the schnapps."

"But that would be wrong, wouldn´t it?" She frowned at him. "I have no wish to get… _inebriated_, Captain, just to be cured of my indisposition!"

Well, at least that partly explained her flushed face. H wondered if a slight cold was the only one of her discomforts at the moment. She kept tugging at the edges of her robe, pulling them tighter and tighter across her bosom. He felt sorely tempted to say that if she kept that up, it would rip in the back, but wisely he kept his mouth shut. Suddenly, he realized how wary and self-conscious she was around him. It was not only the tint of her cheeks, but there were other obvious, albeit subtle, signs as well, things that he doubted she would notice herself. For instance, that thorough look she stole at him right after his remark about her appearance, which was promptly and scathingly rebuffed by her. It was not something he would expect from her and he certainly had no wish to ever even _consider_ brooding about the precise reasons why she was affected. Women usually reacted to him, which was a fact, something he had learned very well to deal with ever since he could remember. But _her? _The old truth remained: to him, governesses had always been sexless creatures, notably governess who were also future nuns. There was no reason why that should change now.

On the other hand…

It should have been a highly improper situation. It was supposed to be so – as incongruous and inappropriate as he could think of. The widowed master of the house running into the young governess of his children in the middle of the night… a future nun! No wonder she was getting restless, she must have more good sense than him!

What they should have done would be barely acknowledge each other's presence, and then quickly walk back to wherever they came from. What he should _not_ have done was to sit with her in a kitchen table, throwing her a few unforgivably personal remarks, drinking tea and tell her a few stories his very eccentric grandmother… the same extraordinary woman who, one day, had advised him that the best way to find out if a bride was suitable would be to place a pine cone in her chair during an elegant dinner party.

"Well, in any case, I think you would make a fortune selling this to my crew if you were around when we still had a Navy," he noted, making an absurd effort to put her at ease in his presence, when propriety demanded that he got up and left immediately.

Nonetheless, he had no wish to leave yet, he felt powerless to do what propriety demanded him to do. He did not want their pleasant interlude to come to an end. Dimly, he became aware of something tugging at his heart, something almost unbearable in its intensity. Whatever it was, he wanted the feeling to linger only for a while, it did not matter how dangerous it was.

He kept talking, _blabbering…_

"You would not believe the things we had to eat and drink while we were at sea. Calling it "_tea_" would be utterly offensive. We had several names for it, none of wish I would allow myself to utter in the presence of a future nun," he continued, feeling suddenly lighthearted for the first time in years. She raised a pair of laughing blue eyes at him, but lowered them immediately when he returned her smile.

"Oh Captain, there is no need to worry. I would not be shocked, I am not that…"

"O-ho yes, you are - Fräulein," he reassured her, half knowing what she would say. "_You have no idea how much you are,_" he added in thought.

"Mmmmm," she muttered.

He added some more tea to his cup, added one sugar cube and stirred it while he kept talking. When he finished, he noticed that it was her turn to be staring at his hands. Apparently, she wasn't interested in his Navy stories, because he had rambled on for a while and she had not said a word. It was not the second time he had noticed that, and again the fact tugged at his pride.

Was there anything about him that she would find interesting at all?

ooo

_A/N: (1) "The Phantom of the Opera", by Gaston Leroux. _


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: Part II of "A Nightcap". Have fun with it! And thank you for your kind reviews.**_

_**BTW, I started a Facebook group, the aimoo forum will be deleted in a few days - I hope to see everybody there. You´ll find the link on my homepage, in my profile (The Villa, on blogspot).**_

**ooooooo**

**The Sound of Music Chronicles**

**Part II **

**Interlude**

**Chapter 08**

_**A nightcap – part II**_

**ooooooo**

"_**Women have a wonderful instinct about things. They can discover everything except the obvious.**__**"**_

_**Oscar Wilde**_

**ooooooo**

"_**A man reserves his true and deepest love not for the species of woman in whose company he finds himself electrified and enkindled, but for that one in whose company he may feel tenderly drowsy." **_

_**George Jean Nathan **_

**ooooooo**

He tried another approach, wondering where that had come from: an almost obsessive need to talk to her, and to hear her talk.

"The schnapps must have worked, you stopped sneezing," he commented.

"Mmmmm?" she asked, distractedly. "Oh yes, I have, haven´t I? I´m sure it was the tea, not the schnapps in it! As I said, it was a mere detail, strictly for…"

"… _medical purposes_. Yes, you did say that," he shrugged.

"I did!" she exclaimed, with a firm nod. "Two tablespoons only, in case you are curious."

He wasn´t, but he could barely suppress a smile.

"Two spoons in each cup?" he teased.

"For the whole _recipe,_" she stressed. "I am not a… a…" she searched frantically for a proper term, "I am _never_ tipsy_._"

"Duly noted. Did things go well with the children today?" he asked abruptly, meaning to return to a safer ground. The little governess was such a delight to tease, a dangerous temptation he had to resist. Not laughing after her last words was the hardest thing he had done that evening.

Well, they needed to discuss the children anyway, didn´t they? Why not here and now? This was as good a time as any. At least it would be the perfect excuse in case anyone else ventured in the kitchen and found them like that.

"What?" She merely looked at him, quizzically, as if trying to readjust her thoughts to the proper direction. "Who?"

"My children, Fräulein. Did they behave?" he insisted, rephrasing his question. "_Did _you_ behave?_" he felt tempted to ask, but something told him that she heard the question in her mind because her eyes twinkled.

"They _always_ do with me, Captain," was her enigmatic reply, as she leaned back in her chair and relaxed, finally meeting his eyes. Hers were twinkling with mischief – not to mention a certain _pride_.

"Touché! But I deserved that one." He gazed at her intently, as if trying to guess what her tactics were. After a few moments, she dropped her gaze to the blasted steaming cup once more. What was there that she gazed at so intently? Dancing fairies?

"You did it on purpose, didn´t you?" she murmured, her eyes narrowing into slits.

"What did I do on purpose?" he asked, knowing the answer only too well.

"It was your twisted way of punishing me for everything that happened yesterday," she said at last, her eyes narrowing accusingly. "Very clever, Captain."

"Guilty as charged," he smirked. "That was very perceptive of you, Fräulein. I never thought you would see through it."

"You were clever, but a tiny bit obvious. You underestimated me. It didn´t work."

"What didn´t work? The shopping spree or the punishment?"

"The latter." She put her teacup down, rather noisily. He winced slightly, fearing of the integrity of the precious china. "Our little trip was a marvelous success. Your instructions were followed strictly, and you´ll be happy to know that all the children have their new decent clothes now. I think you will be pleased." She pointed a finger to him. "You should know me better, Captain. If you wish to intimidate me, you´ll have to use more than seven children and a haughty Frenchwoman who barely spoke German."

"Again - duly noted," he said. "I will try to use more effective tactics the next time," he said, acknowledging his defeat.

"Of course there _was_ a little problem with _Liesl._"

"What about Liesl?" he frowned.

"Hah!"

She shot him a glance that was as impatient as it was knowing.

"Fräulein!" he demanded, impatiently.

"Very well. Your daughter is sixteen. Almost seventeen."

"I know how old my daughter is," he sneered.

"Then perhaps what you _don´t_ know is that you cannot expect her to like being dressed as if she were seven."

"She is a child; she has no saying in the matter."

"She is not a child, she is a young lady. You cannot possibly be so _stubborn_!" she blurted in a high pitched voice.

He raised his eyebrows. When it came to the children she was quite passionate – it was actually one of her best qualities, something that helped him to make his decision to let her stay. Her loyalty to them was unquestionable.

"Fräulein…"

She would not allow him to reprimand her this time.

"Did you consider yourself a child when you were sixteen? Well, I certainly didn´t, I was already living on my own studying in Vienna to get my teaching degree. Didn´t you hate when your parents tried to dress you like a little boy?"

He smirked. "Like my daughter, I had no saying in the matter, I didn´t have much of a choice."

"Hah!" she exclaimed, triumphantly. "There!"

"I had to wear a _naval uniform_ at that age," he retorted smugly, just as she was beginning to savor her small victory. Her impatient look heavenward told him she was annoyed by his superior tone. "I was already a cadet in the Navy," he explained, more amiably.

"Well, Liesl is no naval cadet, and yet she was very resentful about Madame´s choices for her. I managed to convince her in the end, but I could tell that she wasn´t happy at all. I think you should…"

"You think that I should talk to her. I know." He sighed. "Liesl, Liesl, Liesl… Elsa – Baroness Schraeder – thinks she is ready to be launched in society. _Launched -_ that was the word she used. Hah! I used to fire torpedoes at enemy ships and now I must _launch_ my own daughter into the world. A fitting comparison, don´t you think?"

"_At least it feels almost the same,_" he thought.

"I suppose." She smiled broadly. "I was told that her grandfather invented them, didn´t he?"

"_Great_-grandfather," he corrected. "Robert Whitehead was…" he stopped himself just in time, "… he was my wife´s grandfather." Again, that quizzical expression in her eyes, which told him how perceptive she was. If given a chance, he sensed that she would start bombarding him with questions, not about the Whitehead family, but about Agathe and why it was evident that it was still so difficult for him to say her name. He would not give her the chance to do that.

"However, that is now quite what I meant," he continued, interrupting her briskly when it looked like she was about to fire him a question. "I´m a _father_. I should expect devastating consequences, just when I did whenever I fired one of those deadly weapons," he added grimly, sipping his tea and seriously considering fetching the cook´s bottle to add more schnapps to it, regardless of how much his action would shook the already wary little Fräulein.

He stared at her for a moment, and she did not cower, although the flush in her cheeks intensified perceptively.

"I sometimes wonder what on earth the Reverend Mother of Nonnberg Abbey had in mind when she sent _you_ to a notoriously eccentric, widowed sea captain who used to sink enemy ships for a living, a father of seven children whose great-grandfather invented the torpedo, and assume that we all would behave beautifully and we would all live happily ever after in the bucolic Austrian countryside," he chuckled.

"Well, I…"

"Tell me, what did you expect? Seven little angels you could easily bend to your will? A father who did not care what you did with them as long as you kept them out of his eyesight?" He nearly bit his tongue after he uttered the last phrase, for it used to be true, at least until the day governess number twelve walked into his house.

"Well, I had no expectations at all, Captain. I was told very little before I came," she reminded him. "But truthfully, I don´t think it would have made any difference if I knew more. I would never expect children from such an impressive background to be very easy to handle. Children never are, in any case. In my own experience, they always tend to surprise us."

"What about their father?" he blurted the question, surprised with his own impertinence, refusing to acknowledge the reason why, all of a sudden, her opinion of him mattered at all.

Her reaction was a curious one, although not completely unexpected. Her face became fiery red, and at the same time, she straightened her spine and held her chin up, trying to appear unaffected.

"_I caught you again, Fräulein, didn´t I?_" he thought, smirking. "_As mad as this it, it is mutual. You´ve been thinking a little too much about this sea captain as well, at least more than it is deemed appropriate. Yes, we are guilty; both of us, but have we committed a crime? – Or worse, in your case – have we sinned?"_

When she answered, her voice was surprisingly firm, although an octave lower, an indication that she was trying her best to keep her composure, oblivious of the fact that her body language betrayed her completely.

"What about you, Captain? I thought you were - ahem - _unimportant_."

"_Unimportant?_" He raised his eyebrows, unsure if he was amused or irritated by her insolence. Perhaps both. The insignificant governess considered him, Captain Georg von Trapp, lord and master of the household and father to the seven children she was in charge of as _unimportant_? And she did not mind saying that to his face?

Her smile was a copy of his last smirk. O-ho, he must give her some credit, the Fräulein was a master when it came to using his own tactics against him. She did it brilliantly, and it had not been the first time.

"Yes, under the circumstances" she said, her eyes never leaving his face. "Your background is impressive enough to intimidate anyone, but I am here for the _children_, not for you, aren´t I?"

Another well delivered blow. The little innocent certainly knew how to hurt a man´s pride!

"Right."

"I´m glad we are in agreement about this _at least_," she nodded. Did he detect a hint of irony there?

"Mmmm. Very well then, since _the children_ are the reason why you are here, let us return to the original subject – my eldest daughter. Would you agree with the Baroness assessment about Elisabeth (1), Fräulein? Is she ready to be launched in society, for this mad world we live in? Or do you think she will be forever safe in a convent, like yourself?"

He hadn´t intended for that to be a blow, but she flinched slightly.

"It may be a crazy world, but it is also marvelous, don´t you think?"

"Marvelous? I fear I buried such romantic notions long ago, Fräulein. What about war, sickness, death… and heartbreak?"

She did not flinch this time, but kept staring at him, evenly.

"But there are also mountains, flowers, the sea… and music," she retorted. I think Liesl – all of your children, in fact – deserve a chance to see it and experience it all."

Oh yes. _Music._

He flexed his fingers. Instantly, he thought about the grand piano hidden away somewhere in the house, gathering dust and cobwebs. Such a pity, such a _waste_! Not unlike the lively creature sitting across him in the small kitchen table, who was ready to, willingly and gladly, throw her life away by locking herself for life in a medieval Abbey, leaving behind a world full of color and music that she, herself, described as _marvelous_. No, he did not wish to think about that now, but the piano… He used to master it, just like he mastered the sea; he used to know every nuance, every mood of that beautiful instrument, a marvel of perfection, coveted by some of the best orchestras in Europe.

But no, he could not speak of such things to her, to this _insignificant_ little governess who knew nothing of the world and yet wished wholeheartedly to part from it. Yes, she had brought music back to his house, but he was not yet ready to be a part of it. Joining his children in song had been a silly impulse he now regretted.

No, he could not trust that slip of a governess with his innermost thoughts and feelings. Such things were too intimate, too private and too dear to his soul – all things he had lost, perhaps forever. The sea, his music and Agathe – all connected, like the three vertices of a triangle.

"I think Liesl will make you proud if you let her, Captain, no matter what she chooses to do. And the same will happen to all your children. They are much too clever, they only deserve a chance to grow and reach their full potential. But as for what the Baroness has in mind, I fear that you are asking the wrong person."

"Oh, am I?"

"Yes. In my world, being _launched in society_ means getting married as soon as you are old enough to bear children, to a childhood friend or someone your parents chose for you." She considered her words for a moment. "In fact, it is more like being forced to walk the plank like in the pirate stories, rather than being launched like a torpedo."

"But, metaphors aside, you did not follow that path"

"Because I had no option other than to learn how to survive on my own, and that happened before I was of a marrying age. Oh, but I am sure Liesl won´t suffer from that fate. Yes, the Baroness will be far more helpful to you; she will know what to do."

"I don´t know. She never had any children of her own," he pondered.

"She is a woman and she had a mother. That alone should suffice."

"If that is the case, that applies to you as well," he observed. "Now, about Liesl…"

She rolled her eyes, uttering one of her incoherent moans.

"That is not what I mean and you know it."

"I´m afraid you are going to have to be more specific, Fräulein."

Shrugging dismissively, she denied him an answer. At that moment he began to learn something important about Fräulein Maria: as outspoken as she was, when it came to talk about herself, she was a veritable sphinx, probably even more private than he was.

"_Wonder of wonders, Fräulein, we do have a few things in common after all,_" he mused.

For the first time in the many following weeks, he was plagued with the question that would never completely leave his mind: why would such a free spirited girl wish to be locked for life? What were the reasons that drove her to choose that path? None of the obvious answers were plausible, least of all an amorous delusion or a sad case of unrequited love. He had no idea why exactly he knew that, but he just knew it, by instinct… and by the way she reacted, not so subtly, to his proximity.

"_Damn,_" he cursed.

"Captain?" she frowned at him.

"Liesl needs her mother," he whispered. "Not _a _mother_ – her_ mother!" He let out another low curse. "Why the devil did I say that?"

Probably feeling again at ease, she smiled sympathetically at him.

"For the same reason your children say things like that, Captain. You may not like to hear it, but you should know that they mention their mother every ten minutes," she blurted, cleverly taking advantage of his slip of tongue. "Not only Liesl, _all_ of them. Gretl doesn´t remember, but she asks questions all the time. But no no, not to me," she added quickly after noting the expression in his eyes. "Never to me. I hear when they are talking among themselves they… they…"

"They what, Fräulein?"

"I´m so sorry. I´m breaking those rules again, I should not mention…"

"Please don´t do this. Don ´t ruin it. Don´t destroy what you accomplished so beautifully." She gasped, her expression was one of absolute confusion. "I have to know, they are my children!" If her wrist were an inch closer, he would have given in to the temptation of grabbing it, to still her restless hands.

"Ooh. I know, but I went too far again, didn´t I? Please, forgive me."

"You are in charge of my children," he interrupted. "At this moment I am under the assumption that you will stay longer than a week or two."

"Until September," she mumbled, distractedly.

"Until September," he echoed. "Bringing up their late mother from time to time will be _inevitable._ I am no fool, and not so obtuse to be unable to realize that. You don´t need to – uh – tread so carefully around me at all times."

"Captain, I…"

"I am giving you permission to bring up _any_ subject concerning the children whenever necessary. Is that clear?"

"I don´t know…" She scratched her head. "_Anything_?"

"Anything at all. I think I can handle it, otherwise I think it will be impossible for your to do your work," he said, taking a large gulp of his tea, as if for courage. She still looked at him in awe. "At least I will handle anything after one cup or two of this,_" _he said, staring at his cup, meaningfully.

"That is a very dangerous thing to say to me, Captain. You don´t know me that well. What if I overstep my boundaries again?"

"You don´t know me that well either. I am willing to take the risk – for the children´s sake, of course. That is why you are here, isn´t it?"

"Yes, of course. The children… which reminds me, Captain: What about the new rules you wished to discuss?"

"Oh yes, the rules." He thought for a moment. "It is all very simple, Fräulein. You will follow the old schedule for the moment, making whatever changes that you think are necessary here and there."

"But that means _I_ will be making the rules!" she exclaimed, wide-eyed.

"Not exactly, Fräulein."

"You are positively deranged, Captain."

"I trust your good sense. I am sure you will not turn my house into a bedlam or that you will be bringing up – uh – _undesirable subjects _every five minutes simply because you are allowed to do so."

"My _good sense_?" she repeated, distractedly. "But what if I have none?"

He chuckled. "Whoever said that to you was a dismal liar or incredibly lacking in perception."

"Very well then." She bit her lower lip. "But you must realize that I will have to make room for music."

"That sounds reasonable."

"A piano?"

Whatever gave her that idea? She couldn´t possibly know that he used to play, could she? Her expectant gaze as she waited for his answer told her that yes, _she knew_. She may not know how good or bad he was, but she knew he used to play for the children, for Agathe… His fingers curled, he flexed them. The thought about the music sheet he had bought only days before. Rachmaninoff´s latest works, newly published. He would never forget the face of the shop owner when he walked into the store, for he had not set foot inside it in more than three years. Naturally, it was an impulse he regretted now. He had studied those notes for hours before locking the music in his desk drawer. His fingers itched to play it, and he knew he could… If only the relief music could bring would lessen the pain of his loss, but he knew from experience it would only make it worse. No, he couldn´t. Not yet.

_A piano…_

"Absolutely out of the question," he replied firmly.

"I had to try," she muttered.

"I would be surprised if you didn´t. Anything else?"

She took a breath for courage. "Less military history and more literature appropriate for children. Unless, of course, you can make it interesting for them."

"Mmm. I am not sure that is possible," he chuckled.

"Let me see… less marching and more playing," she continued.

"I think I can live with all that too, as longs as it is within reasonable limits."

"I trust you will let me know immediately whenever it becomes – uh - _unreasonable_, Captain!"

"Certainly."

"Good."

The conversation had died again. If there was anything else she wanted to ask him, she suddenly lacked the courage. He decided not to insist.

"The tea is getting cold," he pointed to her tea;

"Yes," she sighed. "It doesn't matter, I had enough of it. I think I should retire now, Captain. I – we – the children and I have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. If you excuse me…"

"But of course!"

"Good night, Captain."

"Good night." As she was crossing the door, he stopped her one last time. "Uh - Fräulein?"

"Yes?" She turned around to face him, wide-eyed.

"When you are back to your Abbey, after you make your vows…"

"Yes?"

"Do you think you will remember your life outside those walls."

She smiled.

"I hope I will, Captain. I know I will."

"Will you remember us?"

She frowned, as if trying to process his question.

"Of course I will, Captain, and I will keep your family in your prayers. You didn´t even have to ask."

"Thank you," he murmured, but he could already hear her footsteps as she run back to her bedroom.

ooo

_A/N: (1) Just a reminder – "Liesl" is actually short for "Elisabeth"._


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N:**_

**_1._ _Thank you all, reviewers, your words mean a lot to me! _**

**_I took a break of a few days, but CP´s well deserved Academy Award inspired me to go on once more. More G/M action in this chapter, which was loosely inspired by a scene in the Anime version of TSOM, "The Story of the Trapp Family"... and in a scene from a James Bond movie ("Live and Let Die", in case you´re wondering). _**

**_2. I realize that people were having trouble finding our Facebook Group, so I changed the settings. It should be easier now. The name of the group is "TSOM Fan Fiction", and you will find the link on my homepage ("The Villa"). If you are still having trouble and stil wish to join, please contact me._**

_**Have fun now - at least I hope you do!**_

**ooooooo**

**The Sound of Music Chronicles**

**Part II **

**Interlude**

**Chapter 09**

_**Cards never lie**_

**ooooooo**

"_**As was the custom, Georg's graduating class sailed around the world in a schooner. They got as far as Australia and then went up the coast of China, taking measurements (for their maps, no doubt). They did not continue across the Paci**__**ﬁ**__**c but went home the way they had come. They stopped in Egypt, where a fortuneteller grabbed Georg's hand and predicted, "You will have two wives, you will have ten children, you will see two world wars, and you will live to be one hundred years old." He was shocked at these improbable predictions, especially since he had not sought her advice in the **__**ﬁ**__**rst place. Ironically, all but the last one came true, though when given, each seemed more unlikely than the next."**_

_**Elizabeth M. Campbell, Introduction to Georg von Trapp´s To the Last Salute – Memories of an Austrian U boat Commander.**_

_****ooooooo****_

"_**The woman who does not choose to love should cut the matter short at once, by holding out no hopes to her suitor." **_

_**Marguerite De Valois**_

_****ooooooo****_

"_**I have always believed, and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value."**_

_**Hermann Hesse**_

_****ooooooo****_

Only a few days later, life with the Trapp family had settled into a peaceful routine that was a perfect match to the unearthly beautiful countryside surrounding the villa in Aigen-bei-Salzburg. Maria's life had never been, according to her own definition, so _interesting_ before. Something new and exciting happened every day and because of it she was running out of pages in the thick journal she brought with her from the Abbey, even if she very little time to write a few lines.

The children occupied most of her time, as expected. She followed their schedule of activities with a few changes: music and singing lessons instead of Austrian military history, not to mention picnics and vigorous walks or bike rides in the countryside instead of marches around the ground breathing deeply.

The uniforms were banished – besides the clothes they had bought during that shopping day in Salzburg, the Captain once more had lots of fabric sent from town, this time for the children, so that Maria and Frau Poppmeier had their hands full with sewing more than enough appropriate play clothes for them. The sailor suits were gone, at least for the moment. Louisa had even suggested that they made a large bonfire with them, but her father, quite obviously, did not find the idea very amusing. In the end, under the dismayed eyes of their father and of a governess who could barely keep herself from giggling, the children stood in line in perfect posture, saluting as Frau Schmidt and Frau Poppmeier carried the trunk containing the uniforms to the attic.

At first, she had been tense, felling like she was walking on eggs. Whenever she sensed Captain von Trapp´s presence nearby, she stiffened with tension, but as the hours, then days passed without a disapproving word from him, she felt more relaxed and confident in the changes she had made. It was rather flattering, of course, when she thought of it: never before had anyone put so much trust in her, with the possible exception of the Reverend Mother when she sent her away from Nonnberg. Now Captain von Trapp, one of Austria´s greatest heroes had trusted _her_, a simple mountain girl, with the care of his children. It was baffling, when she thought of it.

"_Yes, I´m flattered, but would it kill him to let me know, just once, if he is pleased with me or not?_" she used to think, irritably. "_But nooooo, he probably wishes me to go through the humiliation of asking him. Aristocrats!"_

Maria saw very little of her employer during those days. In the rare occasions when their paths had crossed, he barely acknowledged her presence with a nod or an unintelligible grunt, walking away quickly before she even attempted to try to speak to him. The first few times that happened, she fumed:

"_You can talk to me about anything concerning the children,_" she muttered angrily, mimicking his tone. Then she stomped one foot on the ground. "_Anything at all, Fräulein… _my foot!"

Nevertheless, if he did not approve of the children´s new schedule, he had yet to make his displeasure known. Apart from acting as if she barely existed, he had not done that yet, he hadn´t said a word. Their shared nightcap nearly a week ago became a thing of the past, acquiring a certain unreal, dreamlike quality, so much that, as absurd as the idea was, at times Maria caught herself wondering if that odd conversation had really happened at all. It was almost like he regretted having revealed more about his private matters than it was deemed appropriate, considering that she was a little more than a servant in the house, and now he was putting some safe distance between them again. As unpleasant as it was, it was something that she could understand. It was as if he needed to remind her that, no matter how right she had been as far as the children were concerned, some things would _never_ change in that house. A governess would always and forever be a governess, and as one she had no business interfering in his privacy. Maria had mixed feelings about this new situation – oddly enough, she missed their verbal battles as much as she missed that one late night conversation they had. At the same time, it was good to be able to relax and breathe a little easier when she was following the children´s schedule without being under the constant surveillance of their father.

Well, in spite of his distant behavior, at least she did not have to face his wrath again, not since the incident in the lake. Although he was acting as if she barely existed, at least he was not acting like he did not wish her to exist at all, which was one thousand times more painful. There had not been any further confrontations between them, since all the changes in the children's activities were silently approved by him. No fights, no name calling, no accusations. It was like a truce had been called, one that Maria did not know how long it would last. She could almost feel him cringing when he saw, for instance, his children climbing the trees or playing hide and seek in Agathe´s precious rose garden. Or during a rainy day, when they had to stay inside the house, and she had taught the children how to blow soap bubbles, so that they scattered all over the house, even in his study. Other than that, he rarely interfered now when she was taking care of his sons and daughters, which should be enough for her to conclude that she was doing everything more or less right. Considering, however, that it was the Captain… it would not be wise to let her guard down, not even for a day.

All things considered, Captain von Trapp was proving to be as predictable as he was enigmatic. With his ship running smoothly once again, it seemed that his time was divided in three parts: one dedicated to whatever kind of complicated work he did in his study, another dedicated to his guests and a third one dedicated to the children. All the rest – notably the running of his house – had to function in a precise manner, thanks to the capable hands of those he employed in the household. As a governess, it was where she was, more or less, included. She sensed that he would not bother with her unless things were disrupted again.

Whenever he wasn´t busy in his study – drawing complicated underwater boats, Frau Schmidt had said -, Baroness Schraeder and Herr Detweiler occupied most of his time. In order to make up for not being the epitome of the perfect host during the rest of the day, he used to take them to dinner in town every night, usually followed by a concert or a party and they would not return until very late in the evening.

His busy schedule was keeping him from the children – that was true. However, Maria imagined that once he did not have guests in the house, he would spend more and more time with them and less being the perfect host, the quintessential aristocrat. Although the little ones resented this a little, she could not find in her heart a reason to blame him: if his intention was to marry Baroness Schraeder, then he should not neglect her when she was a guest in his house, should he? No, he had to _court_ the woman! Not if, in the end, he had the children´s future in mind, he was making sure they eventually had the mother they needed so badly.

Nevertheless, his behavior with his sons and daughters was changing slowly, as she had expected it would and that was a good thing. Rome wasn´t indeed built in a day! But he was more attentive to them, he did not brush them aside whenever one of the approached him, as he used to do, he listened carefully to what they had to say. He was doing what he could to give each child his undivided attention for a few minutes during the day. If he could not offer them quantity just yet, he was giving them quality in the time they spent together. Friedrich or Louisa now usually accompanied him in his morning rides and twice he took Liesl to dinner and a concert in Salzburg with the Baroness and Uncle Max. He suggested new books for Brigitta to read, helped Kurt fix his wounded toy soldiers and delighted Marta and Gretl with inventive stories.

All Maria could do was to appreciate his efforts.

"_He was so distant from them all for so long… It must not be easy to go back being a father again. But he _is_ trying, he really is!"_

Little by little, she also had the opportunity to be acquainted with other members of the household staff. She learned that, after the war, the Captain tried to do his share to help Austria, by employing in his estate people who had lost their jobs when the country lost its Navy. They were a very interesting bunch, recruited not only from Austria, but from other far away corners of the empire. No wonder none would ever dare questioning the fact that he used a boatswain whistle to call them, they were much too used to that aboard his ships already.

However, her position as a governess did not make the job of _fitting in_ any easier. Maria soon found out that at least one thing she had learned about governesses in the novels she had read was true. She did occupy a peculiar position in the household: she was obviously not a part of the family and, at the same time, the other maids did not consider her as one of their own, and thus were reluctant to become friends with her. This would result in a lonely existence, if not for Frau Schmidt and Frau Poppmeier. The two elderly ladies were the notable exceptions. The latter because of her age and experience and because she had to work with Maria because of all the sewing to be done. They became not only her mentors, but the only two people she knew she could count on in the house, in case she got herself into some kind of mischief again.

Frau Schmidt occupied a prominent position as the housekeeper. Like Maria, she had a peculiar position in the household, not a part of the family, but well above the other members of the staff, including the governess. Like all others, she could simply ignore or rebuff the inexperienced, unqualified postulant, but she did neither. Maria had discovered from the very first day that Frau Schmidt was a most interesting and whimsical character and perhaps for that reason she had taken a certain interest in the young governess. She used to show up often for a chat and a cup of tea while she was sewing late at night with Frau Poppmeier.

Maria was baffled the day she learned that the housekeeper had a most unusual talent – _fortune telling_ (1).

She avoided the issue as much as possible. The Church considered it gravely wrong, but that did not stop her from being a little bit curious. She was only human after all, it was wrong, but oh, so… fascinating! She resisted bravely, telling herself that it was just one of the little temptations that the Lord would put in her way to test her commitment to her chosen path in life. Nonetheless, Frau Schmidt was always so kind and nice to her that Maria began to feel bad about not giving the woman some special attention that the elderly woman seemed to crave.

Frau Schmidt was, after all, a bit of a loner, just like Maria. She still had her husband, who worked for Captain von Trapp as a gardener, but her two daughters lived far away, one in Vienna and the other one in a small village in the south of Austria. It was clear that she missed having a female friend to talk to, she missed having a daughter. Obviously she was fond of her fortune telling, but Maria thought that not too many people in the household would be amused by it! Maria decided that there would be no harm if she humored the poor housekeeper just once. She did not have to believe in whatever she was told, she would only have to listen and forget about it soon afterwards. Her future was so well determined, after all! In the end, it would have been a good deed, a small way to thank someone who had been so helpful to her.

Thus, one afternoon, while the children were working on their studies, Maria found herself sitting in in the terrace, bravely facing Frau Schmidt and her old tarot deck. Fortunately, the Captain had disappeared with the Baroness again, while Herr Detweiler was strolling by the lake, whistling. The colorful cards, decorated with outlandish mythological figures fascinated her, but she still hesitated and looked at the deck uncertainly.

"Come here, Fräulein," she invited, showing Maria an empty chair opposite to where she sat.

"Are you sure this will be all right?" she asked warily. What would her employer and his guests think of his governess and his housekeeper playing with cards in the terrace in the middle of the day? "The Captain…"

"The Captain will not mind, if that is what you fear. He has granted me permission to spend some time here in the afternoon when it is warm and sunny. Doctor´s orders, you know. It is good for my health. "Now please, sit down."

Gingerly, Maria sat on the chair opposite Frau Schmidt.

"I really don´t know about this, Frau Schmidt. I have never…"

"I´m sure you haven´t, my dear, but there is nothing to be afraid of. Call it a part of an old family tradition, if you must. Something tells me that the Captain would approve of it if he knew," she winked.

"No, he wouldn´t," Maria replied with absolute certainty.

"Don´t be so sure. The von Trapps are a very superstitious lot, did you know that?"

"Oh really?" Maria asked dubiously, her eyes narrowing.

"It comes with being a seafaring family, I believe. Like you, I was a mountain girl, but Herr Schmidt is a born sailor. Did I ever tell you that my husband used to be the Captain´s orderly in the Navy?"

"Yes, I believe you did."

"They do have all these curious little superstitions, you know. Let me see if I can remember a few. Mmm…" she squinted, as if to stimulate her memory as she carefully shuffled her cards. "Ah – you should never start a voyage on the first Monday in April… or is it the second in August? Perhaps both, I was never quite sure of that one. And, oh yes, they consider _flowers_ unlucky onboard a ship. Women too."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. But that is not all. They also believe that a naked woman onboard will calm the sea…" Maria rolled her eyes, laughingly, thinking of the unlikely image of an angry Captain von Trapp chasing a naked woman before having to face a storm… "Yes, I know. _Men!"_

"You mean, they consider that women aboard bring bad luck, unless they are _naked_?" Maria frowned. How scandalous was that? "It doesn´t make much sense, does it?"

"Oh well," Frau Schmidt shrugged. "Perhaps not to a convent girl like you, but… never mind," she made a dismissive gesture. "Anyway, that is why they used to have those figureheads in the old ships featuring _undressed_ women," the woman explained. "Anyway, where was I?"

"You said that your card reading was a family tradition."

"Oh yes. In the good old times, it became a little von Trapp family rite, I am proud to say. When the Captain´s wife was alive, everyone who was welcome in the house had to have the fortune read by me. The late Baroness insisted, it was just one of the many small ways that charming woman used to make everyone feel welcome and in her home. I am sure that, if she were alive, she would insist upon it on your case. We would be honoring the memory of the children´s mother…" She winked again, which gave Maria the distinct impression that she had just come up with that weak but compelling excuse in order to convince her.

"Well, if you insist, and if it will make you happy, Frau Schmidt…."

"I do, and it will! It will be rather interesting, you´ll see. I found that is often is the case when the person never had her fortune read before." She shuffled the deck of cards again and asked Maria to cut it. "There is always one surprise or another."

"Hmmm…" was all she said, as soon as the cards were laid on the table. "My fate is very well determined, but I admit I am curious about what you will say about it…"

She watched as the housekeeper spread several cards on the table, face up this time. None of them alarmed her – there were no skeletons, no hanged men... Some of the cards were a bit outrageous, but that did not bother her too much. The look in the housekeeper´s face, on the other hand was rather curious.

"Is there anything wrong?" Maria asked, intrigued. It wasn´t that she was _afraid_. She was a firm believer that she had more than her share of tragedies in her short life and she had survived them all just fine. She had lost her family, her worldly goods – not that she ever had any riches too loose. What else did she have to lose? Once she made her vows and was locked in the Abbey, she would be completely safe, and in peace for the rest of her life. No one on earth would be able to take those things from her.

"I thought you did not believe in fortune telling, Fräulein," Frau Schmidt observed slyly.

"I don't, but you do! Does any of that make any sense to you at all? If it is so important to you, the least I could do is listen. I may not believe in the answer, but you do…" she shrugged. Yes, she knew it was a sin, but she also knew that the gravity of it depended on how much you believed in the fortune telling. And she was not planning to take anything seriously – she knew for a fact there would be no sin in that case. Of course, she could not tell Frau Schmidt any of that, not without hurting the poor woman´s feelings.

"It does make sense! Very diplomatic, how very clever of you! You almost sound like the Captain, did you know that?" Maria shrugged. "In fact, he gave me a similar response a long time ago when I read the cards for him."

"He let you read the cards for _him_!" Maria's eyes widened as she tried to imagine Captain Georg von Trapp sitting in front of a tarot deck, waiting for his fortune to be told.

"Oh, my dear, don´t let him fool you. Under all that aristocratic veneer, the Captain is a naturally curious human being. He has travelled a lot, of course, studied all kinds of things and has a very open mind. Besides, as I said, the von Trapps _are_ a superstitious lot. It is in their blood."

She opened her mouth to question Frau Schmidt further, in order to satisfy her curiosity, but the woman was looking at the cards spread in front of there, with that puzzling look in her face again.

"Honestly, my dear, this is most unexpected. I don't understand this. It does not make any sense at all. It's all… chaos, and disorder, and confusion!"

"_Chaos, disorder and confusion_? Well, that makes perfect sense to _me_!" Maria laughed. It was rather a good definition of her life, at least of her past. Her vocation aside, it was one of the reasons why she looked for the security of a religious life. Yet, with the exception of the peaceful years at Nonnberg, her existence had been anything but ordinary and predictable.

No, there would no harm done in allowing Frau Schmidt to proceed; she had no doubt about it. So far the housekeeper had told her nothing that she didn´t know already!

"This is strange, indeed. My readings are usually very precise. I ask a question, the cards answer; it is as simple as that. Don´t get me wrong, they give me answers in your case, by when I try to make sense of it, and I see things that should _not_ be here at all."

"What things?" Maria had asked, now openly curious.

"No, my dear, if they do not make any sense to me, you must believe me, they won't make any sense to you. I have no wish to disturb you. I think I am not in a good day for fortune telling, it happens from time to time, you know. We should try again tomorrow."

"Will I ever be a good nun?" Maria asked cautiously. "That is all I would like to know and nothing more," she reassured her. "It is the one thing I am curious about."

"If you _must_ know – ehm… Oh dear, how can I say this? You see, _I am not sure_," Frau Schmidt answered, after a brief moment of hesitation. "No, I can´t say that I am. I´m sorry, dear."

Maria uttered an outraged little moan. "No? What do you mean – "_I am not sure_"? That is impossible, I… can´t believe it. _Why?_ I´m doing everything right, I… All right, sometimes I… I _bend the rules_ a little bit, but I never strayed from a righteous path."

"Well, you wanted to know, didn't you? You asked for it, even though I said it might disturb you. You may yell and kick and scream, Fräulein, but there is a man in your future. At least I am seeing one in those cards."

"A what?" Maria shrieked.

"A _m-a-n._ And not a relative or a friend, if that is what you are wondering. A brave, honorable, _handsome_ man that will make you deliriously happy if you let him – and that is all I will say."

"_Where_?" Maria searched for the images in the cards almost frantically, but in vain. _Deliriously happy? Her? With a man?_ No, she would have no trouble _not_ believing such improbabilities, but she had no control over her curiosity…

"He is everywhere I look. There is no doubt about that. The cards never lie; at least they never lied to _me_. There, I said it."

"Erhm - but _who_?" Maria asked impulsively before she could help herself.

"I don´t think it would be wise of me to try to answer that. You don´t know?"

"Of course I do not know," was Maria´s disgruntled answer.

"The cards say you do."

"They can´t possibly mean that!"

Frau Schmidt only shook her head, as Maria rolled her eyes heavenward.

"Well then. That is where craziness begins. What I see is so absurd even I don't believe in it, so if you have anyone in mind, you should..."

"Of course not! I don´t have anyone, I don´t want anyone, I don´t _know_ anyone. I will return to the Abbey in September to take my vows, which means I won´t know anyone either, and I certainly have no intention of… of chasing handsome men because what your cards say," Maria shrieked, shaking her head vehemently. "No, you must have read it all wrong. That is why I do not believe in these things! You said you did not believe in your reading yourself, didn't you? You are right, it makes no sense at all. There is no…" she paused, clearing her throat before she said the word, as if it was strange to her lips, "_… _no _man_ in my life!"

"My cards have never deceived me, and I trust them completely!" Frau Schmidt stated firmly.

"Mmmm…"

"You doubt me? I saw in the cards long ago that the Captain would live to be one hundred years old, see two wars, marry twice and father ten children (3)."

"Ha – ah - ha! There!" Maria exclaimed triumphantly, feeling immensely relieved all of a sudden. "There! None of these things happened. The Captain only married once, he has seven children children already, why would he want more?"

"Why not?" Frau Schmidt chanted, impishly. "In case you haven´t noticed, Fräulein, the Captain is a man in the prime of his life, and there is no reason for us to believe that he will not father another three or four children. Maybe seven more."

Maria did her best to ignore the housekeeper´s remark. A sea captain with seven children was daunting enough, although she nearly choked when she thought about the possibility of _a sea captain with fourteen children…._ But that did not explain the curious ache in her heart when she briefly considered the woman who would give him those children.

"We all pray every night so that there won't be a second great war," Maria continued. "At least I do. Besides, whether he'll live to be a hundred or not, no one will know for quite a while, don't you think? Althoughone must admithe is stubborn enough to live that long just to spite us all."

"You are absolutely right, Fräulein!" A familiar deep male voice spoke behind them. "And there is something I never thought I would hear myself saying…"

ooooooo

_A/N: (1) The idea was inspired by the Japanese anime version of the Trapp family story. In the Japanese version, the housekeeper – who happened to be a Baroness also – used to read the cards. She read them for Maria, and all she saw was chaos and confusion. I decided to take it a little further… (2) See the introductory chapter to Georg von Trapp´s "To the last salute", especially the excerpt quoted in the beginning of this chapter. _


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: The second and final part of the scene that began in the last chapter. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimers: I keep forgetting about this. Please see chapter 1, but, just in case, I don´t own anything:-)_

**ooooooo**

**The Sound of Music Chronicles**

**Part II **

**Interlude**

**Chapter 10**

****ooooooo****

_**Statistical improbabilities**_

"_**Facts which at first seem improbable will, even on scant explanation, drop the cloak which has hidden them and stand forth in naked and simple beauty.**__**"**_

_****ooooooo****_

**_Galileo Galilei_**

"_**It is an old maxim of mine **__**that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."**_

**_Arthur Conan Doyle_**

**_**ooooooo**_**

"_**Man can believe the impossible, but man can never believe the improbable."**_

_**Oscar Wilde**_

_****ooooooo****_

"_**In matters of the heart, nothing is true except the improbable"**_

_**Madame de Stael**_

_****ooooooo****_

"_You are absolutely right, Fräulein - and there is something I never thought I would hear myself saying." _

How long had he been standing there, watching and listening, waiting for the right moment to make his presence known? Why on earth did he seem to find such enjoyment in surprising people like that? _How much had he heard?_

"_Well, if he heard it all, it serves him right_," Maria thought, fuming. "_If he had any sense, he would be the one who should be embarrassed, not I._"

Yet, in spite of her firm resolve to focus on her annoyance only, she felt her face flaming when she thought briefly about the things they had talked about, the silly superstition about naked women on board, Frau Schmidt insisting that there was a handsome man in her future, someone that she already knew… That she would not be a nun, least of all a good one… Oh dear! Her hands flew to her face, an old, instinctive gesture whenever she felt at a loss.

Those feelings lasted for no more than a fleeting moment. Quickly, she realized she had more things to worry about than her employer sneaking behind her back and listening to her private conversations. The plain and simple truth was that Captain von Trapp had caught his governess and his housekeeper in the middle of the day enjoying the terrace as if they were guests in his house and not the help. She had learned very little about the rules of life among those belonging to the higher classes, but enough to guess that such a thing would be considered a terrible fault. A "_faux pas_" as Liesl used to say, and undoubtedly the Captain as well.

Oh yes, she knew him well enough now to know that he _had_ to find something wrong about the situation, and the wisest thing to do would be to get out of there quickly, to see if the children were done with their studies, so that she could move on to their next scheduled activity – a music lesson. She could not waste another moment with Frau Schmidt´s silly fortune telling. What she must do was to run before he started glaring at her, before he accused her of slacking.

Naturally, she practically jumped from her chair when she heard his voice.

"No, please, stay where you are, both of you," he said as soon as he realized her intent to flee. Next, as if to put them at ease, he asked.

"But Captain, I really must…"

He silenced her promptly with a gesture.

"At ease, Fräulein, I am perfectly aware of what you _must. _You are _not_ slacking… today," he finished ironically, after a slight pause and an icy cold glare. "_Sit down_," he commanded, and she answered to his tone as he probably expected and hoped she would – she obeyed immediately, as if by instinct, letting herself fall back on the chair.

"_Oh well, your wish is my command, and if you wish me to enjoy your terrace like a guest, so be it, I will be glad to oblige. Where on earth did he learn to order people about like that?_" she wondered briefly. "_Oooh, what am I thinking? It´s probably imbedded in his genes, generation after generation of high and mighty naval commanders…"_

The Captain proceeded to ignore her completely again, just as he had been doing for the past few days.

"How is your back today, Frau Schmidt?"

There was sincere kindness and concern in his voice, a startling contrast with the tone he had used with her just a moment before. The martinet was gone, the suave aristocrat was back in a matter of seconds. No, he had never used that tone with Maria before. To her, it was a reminder that Frau Schmidt was, to him, much more than a mere housekeeper, after working in his house for so many years, and he certainly would not mind if she enjoyed the sunshine in hid terrace for a few minutes when the place was available. Although at times it was hard for her to imagine Georg von Trapp even having a doting mother, most probably that elderly lady, the wife of his loyal orderly, was the closest thing to a mother he had in many years. It was _heartwarming,_ in the strangest possible way.

"It is much better, Captain. How kind of you to ask!" Frau Schmidt seemed to glow under his attention. Not too many days ago one of the maid said that Georg von Trapp could charm a snake if he wanted to. She hadn´t believed it then, but she was starting to believe it now.

"These minutes in the sun are really doing wonders to me. Dr. Thürmann was right after all," said Frau Schmidt.

"Yes, I learned the hard way that I should trust everything that rascal says," he said, amusedly, at the same time stealing a quick glance at the cards, over Maria´s shoulder. "I´m glad to see you back to your old hobby, Frau Schmidt."

"Thank you, Captain. I hope you don´t mind."

"No, no, no, of course not. We all need our little diversions once in a while. I certainly have mine," he chanted, with a bit of irony, which caused Maria to wonder what kind of diversions a man like him could possibly have in mind.

Half a minute and he hadn´t even glanced at her direction. She did not think that initial icy glare even counted.

"_The silent treatment continues_," Maria thought irritably, but still she allowed herself to breathe out a sigh of relief. For once, she was actually _glad_ he seemed to be ignoring her again, she hadn´t expected to, especially considering the fact that he had probably overheard most of their conversation.

"_Really, Maria. It seems that you are craving for his attention, how silly of you! A simple governess, that is what you are in this house_. _Why would the notorious Georg von Trapp care if you decided to become a wife instead of a nun after you leave his house? You are nothing to him, and lately he has been making quite an effort to show you that_._ As long as you do the work you are supposed to do, he will have no reason to notice you, in the least…_"

However, the tide was about to change yet again. Distracted by her own thoughts, she failed to notice that he had taken another step towards the table, and was now looking at the cards with undisguised interest.

She followed his gaze. It was an interesting deck, she had to admit, one she would admire regardless of her lack of interest in card reading. The main ones, the twenty-two major arcana, as Frau Schmidt called them, depicted beautiful artworks by famous Austrian painters from various periods, each one suited to the meaning of the card.

"_A gift from the Baroness,_" the housekeeper had explained earlier. Maria needed no clarification, she knew by now that, to Frau Schmidt, there was only one Baroness, and that was Agathe von Trapp. No one would ever be able to replace her, in the Captain´s heart or out of it – and in times like these, Maria _almost_ felt sorry for Baroness Schraeder, or any other woman unwise enough to fall for his charms.

Nevertheless, Maria saw no hint of pain in his eyes as he studied at the cards. If there were any memories related to them, they were not haunting him now, in the light of that bright day. What was he seeing? What he was looking at so intently?

"_It is _scientific_ interest, Maria,_" she noted. "_Frau Schmidt just told you that he had studied all kinds of exotic things in his travels. Certainly something like this would interest him, considering all those outlandish books he has in the library. It is either that, or his artistic interested was piqued, because the artwork featured in those cards is simply gorgeous."_

"Mmmm…" he hummed. "Fascinating!"

"_You see?"_ Maria told herself, with a satisfied inner smile. "_Mere scientific-artistic interest."_

"May I join you?" was the abrupt request. The little smile froze in her lips. This was most strange, she would never expect that he would be _that_ interested. Had he never seen that those cards before? He probably had, since it was a gift from his wife.

"But of course!" Frau Schmidt said, while Maria, mortified, raised her eyes heavenward, muttering a quick, silent prayer for guidance. "Please, do join us, Captain. We would be honored, wouldn´t we, Fräulein?"

"Erhm… uhm… aahh…"

"She means _yes_, of course, Captain," said Frau Schmidt, coming quickly to the rescue. As if to confirm her words beyond any doubt, Maria started nodding vigorously.

"Having trouble with your throat again, Fräulein? Perhaps some of that magic laced tea of yours would help," he muttered playfully a subtle reminder of their shared nightcap.

"_Oh oh oh, you smug villain!_"

She glared at him, while Frau Schmidt looked at them, puzzled. Maria knew the housekeeper would ask her about it as soon as she had the opportunity to do so: if there was one think all members of the von Trapp household did not suffer from was lack of curiosity. She better find a good, reasonable explanation for it, one who did not cause the housekeeper or the other servants who might heard about it to… start _imagining things_.

As if reading her mind and reminding himself of the possible consequences of those impulsive words, in the next instant, the Captain clearly regretted what he had said, probably because he had noticed the housekeeper´s odd look. His face hardened again to an impassive mask. From that moment on, if he cared at all about her answer, he showed nothing. Strangely, it seems that the cards on the table held his full attention once more.

"Oh, I fear my reading has upset the poor little dear a little bit," the elderly woman explained, apologetically, while Maria still seemed unable to form a coherent sentence. "She is a bit dazzled and confused by it, I´m afraid."

"No, it didn´t. I´m not… dazzled or confused, I just…"

"Intriguing, isn´t it?" said Frau Schmidt, ignoring Maria´s weak protest, as the Captain took the chair between them, his eyes never leaving the cards. "In all my years, I don´t think I have ever seen a reading quite like this one. I can´t seem to be able to decipher it. It is all…"

"Chaos, disorder and confusion," Maria completed, in spite of himself.

"Mmm…" he grunted. "Indeed," he spoke at last, enigmatically. He pointed to the card in the far left. "It looks rather obvious to me," he mused. "Does that one mean what I think it means?"

"_Oh no…"_ She would never have imagined that the Captain´s "scientific interest" would include _interpreting_ whatever was in the cards. So, it wasn´t the art, it wasn´t the symbolism, it was the _reading_ that had him so engrossed! Oh dear!

"I think it does," agreed Frau Schmidt, "especially if you combine it with the one below it! Isn´t that…"

"Oh for heaven´s sake, stop it, both of you," she blurted out at last, unable to stand that… that _torture_ anymore. Frau Schmidt´s eyes widened, and she looked worriedly at the Captain, but Maria´s sudden outburst only made him chuckle.

"O-ho, she does have a temper, doesn´t she?"

"_Oh yes, I do! And you´ve seen nothing of it, Captain,_" she thought, remembering the fabulous tantrums she used to throw when she was a child.

"As I said, we can always try again, Fräulein and maybe things will not appear so strange," the housekeeper suggested, gathering the cards together again.

"No, no, no. I think I had enough of it to last a lifetime," Maria said simply, adamant in her refusal, crossing her arms in her chest. She had no wish to see handsome men in her future, at least now when the Captain was sitting right next to her, close enough so that she could smell his cologne! It was most… unsettling!

"I told you: my cards shocked the poor girl," Frau Schmidt said.

"Indeed. It seems it has robbed Fräulein Maria of her power of speech. You must tell me your secret, Frau Schmidt, I may need that one of these days…"

"_You won´t need it so soon, Captain, not if you continue ignoring me,_" she thought.

For the first time in days, he granted his governess his full attention. Oh dear, how could she had forgotten the magnetic force of those dark blue eyes when they were focused on her? She had been so close to believing that she was immune to them. So close… Still, she held his gaze, bravely, hoping – perhaps in vain – that her eyes had just a little glimmer of _something_ that intimidated him.

Just a little…

"Tell me, Fräulein – what did our Frau Schmidt tell you that has robbed you of your voice?" He didn´t wait for her to answer. "No, you don´t need to tell me."

"_Of course not, you heard it all!"_ she thought. "It´s all right, Captain, there is no harm done, I don´t believe in these things," she said evenly, recovering a little bit of her composure, praying that Frau Schmidt wouldn´t be offended.

"You don´t believe it because it is impossible or you don´t believe it because if you do believe it, no matter how improbable the reading is, it will be a grave sin?" he asked sarcastically. "Or… are you _afraid_ to believe it? Which is it, Fräulein?"

She gasped. _Afraid? Her?_ Impossible. She stared at him, stunned and wide eyed.

"Neither, Captain. I don´t believe it _because I don´t believe it_," she said simply, slowly and evenly, raising her chin. "It is against…"

"… the dictates of the Roman Catholic Church. Yes, I know, I know," he interrupted, dismissively. "I also know that there is nothing wrong if you don´t believe in it. Isn´t that true, Fräulein?"

"Yes, Captain."

"You have to admit it is tempting," he teased. "To know what the future holds for you, especially if it is something..." he paused for a moment.

"Something what?"

"… something different from what you originally planned."

"That´s impossible. I know what the future holds for me, Captain," she retorted firmly.

"O-ho, do you?"

"What if we try one card only?" suggested Frau Schmidt. Maria was glad for the interruption – if not for the woman, the Captain would start a long debate questioning her poor use of logics in her answers, or worse – her commitment to her chosen path in life. He was determined to start challenging her again, she could feel it. Somehow, she had broken through his indifference towards her again, and yet she did not know how she felt about it.

"In my experience, that should clear things a little bit," the housekeeper explained.

"It's all right, Fräulein, I'll do it for you," the Captain intervened. Before she could stop him, the Captain reached for a card and turned it over.

"_The Lovers" (1). _Gustav Klimt´s beautiful painting of a dark, handsome man and an innocent looking maiden locked in an embrace danced before Maria´s eyes (2).

"Ha hah!" He smirked. "That is… _interesting._"

"_No wonder Frau Schmidt was led to believe I'll never be a nun!_" she thought.

Frau Schmidt's expression was unreadable.

"Aah!" was all she said. "Peculiar indeed, Captain. A different card, one that did not came up before, but somehow carrying the same meaning as all the others put together."

"That still doesn´t make much sense, does it?" Maria mumbled. "At least not for me. Oh well, I told you I…"

"The meaning of the cards is usually not so straight forward and literal, although in this case… Mmm… Probably we are doing this the wrong way. You should take a card _yourself_, Fräulein, since it is you that I owe this reading to."

Of course Frau Schmidt did not need to explain the rest to Maria – it was the Captain who had picked the card, so its meaning was for him, and for him only. _The lovers…_ Since Baroness Schraeder and he were… He wouldn´t dare, would he? Not with the children in the house! But then, she reminded herself that the aristocracy lived by their own rules and perhaps to them such a thing wasn´t scandalous at all, perhaps not even considered sinful. Perhaps it was something people would expect from a man of his station and in the prime of his life, and something that would not be frowned upon even in the Baroness´s case.

No, she did not want to dwell upon that either.

Maria watched closely as Frau Schmidt shuffled the deck once more, and handled it to her, for cutting. She stole a quick glance to the Captain, who was now standing silently next to her, and his look was… _defiant! _

"Come on, Fräulein. Be brave!" Yes, the insufferable lout was daring her to do it! "Put an end to your misery, and ours. There will be no harm done if you don´t believe in it."

"I´ll let _you_ be brave this time, Captain," she challenged him back. "_You are more used to it than I am,_" she thought.

"There are fifty-two different cards in that deck. The chances that you pick that same card again are… uh - _minimal._ If that is what you fear, of course."

Well, he was right, and if that was the case, she refused to back down from the challenge, not when the challenge came from him.

"All right, all right!"

Maria moaned and picked another card from the deck, hoping that it wasn´t as disturbing as the first one. She turned it over – and gasped.

It was "_The Lovers_" again.

Maria did not know whether she started laughing hysterically or cried out in protest. She was completely _paralyzed_ for a moment. The Captain, on the other hand, did not appear to have a similar problem. Oh, how she wish to wipe off that smirk from his face, as much as she wanted to rip that tarot card in one thousand pieces.

"What a fascinating statistical improbability," he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear, leaning back in his chair as if he was enjoying himself immensely. "One of many, in fact."

"What do you mean by… by… _one of many_?"

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkled. She was distracted for a moment, then gulped. Dear Lord, why did he have to look so absurdly _handsome?_ She would rather _die_ than to admit that it wasn´t the result of the unfortunate fortune telling that was turning her into a blabbering idiot – something that she had never been, but rather, it was _him. _Particularly now, when he looked a little less formal than his usual self. She must do something about it, urgently, before she made a spectacle of herself.

It would not be easy. Shutting her eyes for a moment did not work, because she kept seeing him behind her eyelids. Looking away wouldn´t either, because she would still feel his presence. The only thing to do was to resign herself to it, and act like it was nothing out of the ordinary. He _had_ to be used to that kind of silly reaction from every other female he encountered, he wouldn´t think too much of it, maybe he would not even notice. Still, with the sunlight playing with his hair, she noted that it was of a deep, rich brown, instead of black, as she had originally thought. If she tried, it would not be hard to imagine him on a sailboat at sea, smiling at the woman he loved, with the wind blowing that hair, his skin more tanned, his wide shoulders…

_What was she thinking! What did the width of Captain von Trapp´s shoulders had to do with anything?_

She wished she could kick herself in order to banish those absurd little reveries, but then he would catch the gesture and demanded to know why she acting in such a preposterous manner. Also, she could not help but wonder if Baroness Schraeder was the one responsible for his unusual good mood. Inexplicably, she did not know if she should thank her for it, or… or… or… Oh dear, that little half smile of his was distracting. It had the effect of turning her thoughts into mush and take her breath away at the same time, and she wasn´t sure she liked that at all. Oh, sometimes she hated the fact that she had led such a sheltered life!

On the other hand, Maria couldn´t quite understand the reason for his amusement. She was having trouble finding anything entertaining about the while situation, quite the contrary. The pleasant afternoon break in the terrace had taken a turn for the worst, and she was on the verge of embarrassing herself. _Again_.

"It seems, Fräulein, you are able to bend the rules of probability as well as you bend the rules of Nonnberg, not to mention _my _rules," he said. "Remarkable."

The man certainly knew how to make her squirm. He had indeed overheard the whole thing! The fiend!

"Indeed! Well, I have never seen such a thing happening before," Frau Schmidt muttered, staring at the card on the table. "I am not sure what to make of it."

"_Well well well_, what is happening here?"

It was a timely, but welcome interruption, one that would probably rescue Maria from further embarrassment. She sighed, relieved.

"Max Detweiler! How good of you to join us," the Captain said between clenched teeth, with exquisite irony.

"_He is a terrible liar, but he hides it well behind all that sarcasm,_" Maria thought, shaking her head. Well, at least she hoped it would. '_Yet, to those who know him just a little bit, it is plain obvious!_"

Frau Schmidt did not waste the precious opportunity to excuse herself and leave. Maria should have done the same, but something else distracted her. It was not the Captain, this time, it was actually something that the Captain was doing. Amidst the confusion, she noticed something very odd. As soon as he realized that Uncle Max was in the vicinity, she noticed, with the corner of her eye, that, with quick fingers, the Captain took the outrageous card from the table, and deftly placed it on the left side pocket of his jacket. He probably thought no one had seen it, and no one had – except for her. Frau Schmidt never noticed it as she gathered the rest of the deck together before leaving.

"_I will _not_ let him get away with that,_" Maria vowed silently.

"What were you up to, my dears?" the impresario asked, taking the chair Frau Schmidt had vacated.

"It seems that Frau Schmidt is back to her fortune telling. She was reading the cards for Fräulein Maria," the Captain explained.

"Oh, really? Interesting. Oh well, that is good to know, I have a few things of the utmost importance to ask her one of these days…"

"I dare to imagine that you do, Max," the Captain chuckled.

"Yes. I should ask her to tell me how long it will be before I am rich and famous, where and when I will meet the fourth Mrs. Detweiler – things like that." Herr Detweiler scratched his moustache. "Now tell me, Fräulein, did our lovely Frau Schmidt perhaps see a gentleman in your future who would be willing to steal you from your beloved Nonnberg Abbey?"

"Max…" the Captain warned him, while Maria, with a most puzzled look on her face, seemed a little bit dazzled.

"Why am I even bothering to ask," Uncle Max continued, ignoring the Captain, "There is no reason for you to worry, Fräulein, the old girl sees men on _everybody´s_ future. Even mine!"

"Max!" was the Captain´s furious exclamation, which was more than enough to bring Maria out of her daze. She giggled nervously. What a mad afternoon this was turning out to be!

"Now, do tell me, Fräulein, regardless of what the cards told you, what happens when you return to the Abbey in September? Won´t you miss all this madness, just a little bit?"

"Well, I…"

"Fräulein Maria is not going to miss anything, she is going to be a nun, at Nonnberg Abbey. I thought father had told you, Uncle Max," a child´s voice spoke behind her. "_Everybody _knows that_._"

"_Oh God, I do hope so,_" Maria sighed.

"Brigitta," the Captain muttered, rolling his eyes.

"_My sentiments exactly, Captain,_" Maria thought, now resigned to her fate. She didn´t think her situation could become any worse now.

"Isn´t that true, Fräulein?" the eleven year old asked.

"Mm mm," she nodded in response, with a beaming smile – well, maybe the girl´s arrival would suit her just fine. If things could not get any worse, the only possibility was that things would get _better. _Looking back she saw Brigitta, followed a few steps behind by Louisa, both carrying several books with them. The girls certainly had inherited their father´s talents for _sneakiness_, for apparently none of them had noticed their arrival. Obviously, they had finished their studies and had come for their governess, to continue with their scheduled music lesson.

"Fräulein Maria will never be a nun, silly. She is going to get married, remember?" Louisa retorted, slyly.

The proud smile froze in Maria´s lips. The Captain stilled. Max Detweiler watched her with unabashed curiosity. Both seemed… _perplexed_! The Captain, however, was much more than just that – for some mysterious reason, he was noticeably exasperated.

"You are going to do _what?_" the Captain snapped, his dark blue eyes shooting daggers at her.

"_What is it, Captain von Trapp?_" she scowled, making a great effort not to say the words aloud, but keep them to herself. "_Aren´t your governesses entitled to a private life? Even if I wished to get married, it would be my business, not yours, and you have no right to appear so… so… piqued about it._"

"Hah," Herr Detweiler clasped his hands. "Beautiful. The cards never lie, isn´t that what they say?"

Everyone else seemed to be doing nothing but to stare at her with the most varied, the most absurd looks in their faces, all of them waiting for her to say something, while she took her time, pretending to rearrange her skirts.

"Fräulein?"

It was one of his ways of demanding an explanation with the minimum possible amount of words.

"Mmmm?" He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Cards may lie, but I know my children and they never lie to me. I think I… uh – _we_ are entitled to a little explanation. The Reverend Mother…"

"Oh, Louisa is merely jesting, Captain," she said quickly, before, somehow, the Mother Abbess was dragged to the whole misunderstanding. She tried to sound dismissive, as if it was a matter of minor importance. "This is completely absurd. I assure you, I have no other intention but to take my vows as soon as I return to the Abbey, least of all to be… to be _mar…ried_."

The word – _married _- felt so alien in her lips, making her stutter. It was the first time, in fact, that she applied them to herself. "_To be married_" - she had never even considered the possibility, not even in her wildest dreams…

"Your gentleman admirer may think otherwise…" Louisa then turned to her father and whispered in a conspiratorial tone. "Father, did you know that Fräulein Maria has a suitor?"

"I most certainly do _not_…" she replied immediately, a lot louder and sharper than she had intended. "… have a suitor," she finished, with a lower, even voice.

The Captain merely stared at her, his expression as unreadable as a sphinx´s. Meanwhile, the girls continued to amuse themselves at her expense. Oh, this felt worse than any other of the pranks they played on her. What was puzzling to Maria - _he let them ._ And he had that horrible card in his pocket, a veritable trump card against her, if he chose to use it!

"_Well, Captain, two can play the same game,_" she thought. She wondered if she could summon a few of her tomboyish skills and steal it from him, just as he had _stolen_ it from the table under everyone´s eyes when Herr Detweiler arrived.

She knew she could – and she would!

While she was growing up, most of her friends were rejected little misfits like herself, and she had learned one or two little things from them. _Picking pockets_, for instance. Not that she had _ever_ used such skills in her life. She wondered if she could still do it, if she still had quick, light fingers… It wouldn´t exactly be _stealing_, she merely wanted the card to return to its rightful owner, Frau Schmidt, who would certainly miss it, her precious deck would be incomplete without it. All she had to do would be to extend her left hand and she would easily reach his left pocket… Distracted as he was by the girls and Uncle Max, he would never notice it. The mere challenge of it was tempting.

"Imagine how _romantic_ it would be," Brigitta sighed, her eyes dreamy. "Fräulein Maria in the chapel, dressed as a bride, about to take her vows, when all of a sudden, a handsome knight riding a magnificent black horse interrupts the ceremony and…"

"Oh God!" Maria exclaimed, horrified.

Brigitta had the imagination of a future writer, and she was certainly allowing it to fly, by telling a colorful, dramatic tale of Maria´s rescue from the Abbey by a valiant knight. However, that was not the reason that had caused her to commit the sin of saying the Lord´s name in vain.

"_Who am I to think I could outsmart the notorious Captain von Trapp? The whole Imperial Navy would laugh at me if they learned that one!"_

It was his hand grasping her right wrist under the table, having caught her in the act of stealing the Tarot card from his pocket that nearly made her jump from her seat. She didn´t think anyone else noticed it, they hands were completely hidden under the table. It was a firm, steely grip, and the shock of it was causing the strangest sensations, but he wasn´t actually hurting her – although she sensed he would if she did not drop the card. _Immediately._

Maria let the card go, dropping it to the ground. His fingers slackened instantly. He let her hand go, and she could not help a little gasp when his thumb grazed her wrist. When her hand was finally free, she shook it and wiggled her fingers, although he hadn´t cause her any pain. No, she wouldn´t call it _pain,_ not exactly. Her wrist tingled in a most curious manner, especially the inner side of it, where she had felt the accidental brush of one of his fingers.

"This girl has quite an overactive imagination! I think I might have read a book like that once," Uncle Max said, leaning back in his chair, with an utterly satisfied grin in his face, blissfully unaware of what had just happened.

Glancing down, Maria saw the card on the floor, face up, the pair of embraced lovers mocking her. All she had to do was to move her right leg and step in it and secure it, then she would pick it up in the first opportunity she had. The problem was that the Captain had the same idea, and as Maria daintily moved her right foot to step over the card, she met the Captain´s much larger, booted foot already there. Impulsively, as an act of frustration, she kicked him not so lightly. He flinched slightly, but it was his only visible reaction. He did not say a word, his face betrayed nothing, but she could not be sure if the same could be said about hers.

"As for you, my dear Fräulein, I am very much impressed," Uncle Max continued, always unaware of what was happening under the table. "Barely out of the convent and you are already breaking hearts around Salzburg. Brava!"

The Captain´s reaction was entirely unexpected. Having heard Max´s comment, he had the audacity, the gall to _laugh _– that low, sarcastic laugh of his that was rather unique.

"_Oh-ho-ho!"_

At that moment, Maria discovered that she was not completely devoid of female pride. Future nun or not, did he think she completely lacked any charms that even no man in the world would have no reason to look at her _at all_? She felt tempted, oh so very tempted, to lie to that infuriatingly arrogant male that happened to be her employer and tell him that yes, she had not only one, but _several_ suitors in the Salzburg area. It would be useless, of course, he probably would not believe and she would only embarrass herself further. Instead, she said, keeping her voice as low and serious as she possibly could:

"I am not breaking any hearts anywhere, Herr Detweiler. I assure you, he was just…"

"Ah ha!" It was the Captain who interrupted her briskly this time. He was no longer laughing. There was suspicion in his eyes, and for a moment she wondered if that was not the way he looked at a prisoner, or a young cadet, when he wanted to interrogate him.

"… just an old friend," Maria finished.

"Then there _is_ a "_he"_!"

Maria sighed, looking heavenward, strangely resigned. She should be used to this by now. Whenever she thought that there wasn´t anything else that could _possibly _embarrass her more in front of the nuns in the Abbey, and more recently Captain von Trapp, something entirely new and completely unexpected happened. Never in her wildest imaginings she would have imagined the little innocent incident with Werner Lueger at the Pegasus fountain would come up again. _Ever!_ She had completely forgotten about it herself.

What was it – some kind of unique talent of hers? Some kind of strange gypsy curse she carried from ancestors she did not even know the name of? She did not know what it was, would never know, and, right now, did not care to find out.

Both girls started speaking at the same time.

"His name is Werner."

"Marta named him _Herr Broomstick_ because he looks like one."

"Yes, he is hideous!"

"He was following her, Liesl saw it!"

"Friedrich wanted to break his nose, but Fräulein Maria did not let him!"

"_Well, let them!_" Maria thought, shrugging. Anything she said could and would be used against her at this point, she was sure of it. Besides, if they had gotten her into _another_ awkward situation, it would be only fair that they should be the ones to get her out of it, even if that meant a momentary blow to her reputation as a Nonnberg postulant. She would make sure to clarify things later with the Captain, explaining him everything, if he cared to hear.

_A/N: (1) __"LOVE is a force that makes you choose and decide for reasons you often can't understand; it makes you surrender control to a higher power. And that is what this card is all about. Finding something or someone who is so much a part of yourself, so perfectly attuned to you and you to them, that you cannot, dare not resist. In interpretation, the card indicates that the querent has come across, or will come across a person, career, challenge or thing that they will fall in love with. They will know instinctively that they must have this, even if it means diverging from their chosen path. No matter the difficulties, without it they will never be complete." Source - __.__ - about the meaning of the tarot card "The Lovers". (2) Gustav Klimt´s painting, "Love" was described in "The Sound of Music Chronicles – Part I – The 12__th__ Governess. In my story, it was part of a collection belonging to Baroness Schraeder´s late husband, and the Captain admired it when he was in Vienna, shortly after meeting Maria for the first time._

36


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Thank you for your wonderful reviews, they are inspiring as usual. There is a long chapter ahead, waiting for you - I could not bring myself to split this one in two. Have fun with it!_

_For those of you who are still trying to find the new home of the old proboards forum on Facebook, the name of the group is "TSOM Fan Fiction" and everyone is welcome. I changed the settings, it is a closed group but you should be able to find it on a search. If not, please contact me:-)_

_Disclaimers: See chapter 1_

**ooooooo**

**The Sound of Music Chronicles**

**Part II **

**Interlude**

**Chapter 10**

_**Scraps**_

**ooooooo**

"_**...a medley of scraps, half verse and half prose and some things not very like either, where wise folk and simple alike to combine, and you write your nonsense, that I may write mine."**_

_**From the website "The Scrap Album" – author unknown.**_

**ooooooo**

"_**There is no aphrodisiac like innocence."**___

_**Jean Baudrillard**_

**ooooooo**

Captain von Trapp would never expect that a mature man like himself would suddenly be overcome with adolescent urges. First, strange dreams that made him wake up with the desire to kiss an unknown woman who was not his late Agathe, the love of his life. And now this: the most incongruous, baffling, ridiculous curiosity about a pitiful governess.

What could a man do?

He had no clue, and yet it was something he was slowly getting used to. He could not help himself: _she intrigued him_.

Her antics drove him over the edge most of the times, but at the same time they were so… amusing! Her tomfooleries had already made him laugh in secret more times than he had laughed in the entire three years since his wife´s death. Sometimes he had barely been able to disguise his mirth from those around him. Yet, there were times when she was so infuriating, so irritating that he felt like climbing up the walls of his villa and it took a supreme effort of his part not to yell his head off at her. He was sure that all this was adding up to a few more wrinkles around his eyes, and a few more gray strands of hair in his head. Yes, the black sheep of Nonnberg would be the death of him, if he did not do something about it!

Naturally, he would never admit such feelings, would never voice those worries aloud - not to a soul! Admitting his near obsession/fascination with a mere governess to anyone would be nothing short of disgraceful. Admitting that he worried about her future happiness was insane. Admitting any of those things to himself would be… _unthinkable._

Nevertheless, as dangerous and forbidden as it was, he allowed himself the strange pleasure of brooding about the children´s governess once in a while. Well, at least he was honest enough to admit _that_ to himself, although there were other things he simply refused to acknowledge, not even under torture, particularly anything to do with a certain female form revealed by a wet dress… Other than that, he began to find his curiosity about the little Fräulein a pleasant distraction when Max and Elsa were not around to amuse him with their outrageous remarks and deliciously risqué innuendos. He saw no harm in giving free rein to any of that, so logically there should also be no harm in being charmed by the alluring little Fräulein.

"_Intrigued,_" he reminded himself. "_Yes, intrigued, entertained. Fascinated? – Not even remotely!_"

Well, perhaps that was not entirely true, perhaps he wasn´t being completely honest with himself. Despite his inner reassurances, he could not deny that actually found the sight of the governess flustered whenever he caught her off guard quite… _charming_.

In any event, a pleasant distraction was what he was in the mood for that morning, and he saw no reason not to indulge himself with whatever came his way. Elsa had gone to town for a bit of shopping, with Max tagging along, and he had no wish to join them. The children were all busy with the English tutor he had recently hired, for he felt that they had neglected their mother´s language long enough.

Honestly, he had no clue about how to act around her, and the thought have him another little pause. Sometimes he felt compelled to ignore her completely, acting like she barely existed at all – and that was what he did most of the times, being the safer course of action. There were other times, however, when he had to fight the urge to call her to his study to ask for her opinion about something entirely unrelated to the children's upbringing. Horse breeding, wine making, politics, submarine warfare – he felt an uncanny desire to hear what she would have to say about the most unlikely subjects, what outrageous ideas would come out of her mouth… Once or twice, he even caught himself _imagining_ what she would say, knowing that, whatever he came up with would pale in comparison with reality.

Because of all this, and as much as he hated it, he knew that his behavior towards the little Fräulein would appear erratic to any keen observer. He could only hope that no one was paying close attention to his reactions whenever she was around.

"_Why would anyone have any reason to do that?_" he told himself. "_She is nothing but a governess, for pity´s sake! Governesses have occupied a very specific place and a very specific role in any distinguished household for centuries, and there is no reason why that should change now, in _my_ house of all places. Governesses were born governesses and if everything was right with the universe, they would also die governesses – unless, of course, they lived in the minds of one of those horrid female writers of gothic novels."_

Fortunately, it seemed that most of the ladies who chose that distinguished profession were sensible enough in order not to indulge themselves in silly fantasies induced by the likes of that Bronte woman! He smirked, not able to prevent himself from imagining exactly what kind of romantic female fantasies the little postulant entertained while she was dreaming away during her free time. But the train of thought was a dangerous one, and with a shook of his head, he tried to focus his mind on other things.

His guests seemed to understand the unshakable truth about governesses perfectly, and maybe he should be inspired by their example. While Max was clearly amused, Elsa had treated the children´s Fräulein like they had always treated any other governess – politely, but coolly, barely acknowledging her existence, with typical aristocratic superiority, as if she were practically invisible. It disturbed him, and he did not know exactly _why,_ but probably because he would never think of someone as Fräulein Maria being _invisible._ No, she was certainly many things, but never that. Max, on the other hand, seemed more curious, but that was almost second nature to him, so Georg saw no reason to worry about. It was _his_ own behavior that appalled him.

In a way, he felt like one of those stray dogs that sometimes chased his automobile and had no clue about what to do with it once they had reached it. It was an odd, almost alien feeling for him. In the Navy he commanded men of every possible background, and the same could be said about the running of his estate. Fräulein Maria was undeniably a governess, but she was also unlike any governess he ever met in his life, unlike _anyone_ he had ever met. She was delightfully unimpressed and unaffected by his authority, but she seemed restless whenever he treated her more informally. The solution he found for that problem was a very simple one and he worked it in his mind in a matter of seconds. Because he did not know what to do, he decided it was safer to keep a certain distance, at least until he figured out exactly how to handle the hellion. He ought to give her the benefit of the doubt – it could be that she too had no clue about how to handle him!

On the other hand, the workings of her mind fascinated him – which led him back to the beginning of his dilemma. It was a lure he found hard to resist. She could come up with the most illogical arguments and be entirely convinced that her line of reasoning was perfectly flawless. She had a nagging ability to have original ideas even about things she knew absolutely nothing about. While doubt and uncertainty reigned in his life, she guided hers with by an unshakable faith – at least at first glance. It was obvious that she would never admit anyone daring to question her vocation for religious life. Her reaction to Frau Schmidt´s fortune telling had told him as much. Such stubborn certainty intrigued him, to say the least.

It was unavoidable; he could not help but to think about the recent events. The icing on the cake – two of his daughters candidly informing him that the virginal little Fräulein, who loved to proclaim to the four winds that she had no other wish in life than to become a virtuous nun, whose eyes sparkled with fury whenever anyone dared to question what to her was an unshakable truth… His daughters telling him that chaste little vestal of the modern times _had a suitor_.

Astonishing. Ludicrous. _Infuriating._

If he thought that her chosen fate, to live in seclusion forever, was cruel enough, he had to revise his opinion: to marry to a youth who would not value her as she deserved (well, he had to admit that) would be a worse fate. An empty life, where she would be forever dissatisfied in every imaginable way, doing nothing but cooking, cleaning and making babies – it would destroy her vivacious, free-spirited personality in a matter of months. If he ever met her again in one year or two, she would be no more than a shadow of what she was.

What a waste! Poor little Fräulein!

If only _someone_ could do anything to rescue from such a bleak future. Such thoughts brought him a wave of contradictory feelings, some of which did not make any sense to his rational mind. There was, first and foremost, a curious little pang of sadness, almost grief for a life that was about to be wasted. There was distaste when he realized that he did not find very pleasant at all to think about whom that _someone _who would rescue the Fräulein from her sad fate might be. But what made his blood boil was that, astonishingly, when he thought about the boy his little Marta had cleverly – and aptly, without a doubt – named _Herr Broomstick_ holding the governess in his arms, making love to her. When he thought about the governess becoming a woman in the arms of such an inexperienced youth, he cringed, he became… _murderous! _Perhaps it was a good thing, after all, that Fräulein Maria was so adamant about becoming a nun after all. To her, it would undoubtedly be the lesser of two evils. He was certain that the Mother Abbess did not consider that her own life had been a waste!

Such torturing feelings about the _possibility_ of the naïve little postulant having a gentleman admirer could not, should not be confounded with _jealousy,_ he told himself. No, no, no, it was mere concern for the little Fräulein´s future, mixed with his high regard for the Reverend Mother who had sent her to him and made him promise that no harm would come to the postulant while she was out of the Abbey. To imagine anything different than that would be ridiculous. Unthinkable. Had such feelings been centered on Elsa, they would bring a great deal of relief. _Jealousy_ was a feeling that he had felt only associated with his beloved wife, and it was somehow closely related to _love,_ at least in his mind. It would be indeed a very good sign if he found himself jealous of Elsa all of a sudden, but he never did. He found her accounts of the few love affairs she had after her husband died amusing, more than disturbing to his peace of mind. The idea of his soon to be fiancée in the arms of another man, his predecessor in her bed, never disturbed him in the least. Quite the contrary, he used to laugh at her tales, and not even _once_ he had the desire to chase Elsa´s former lover to the end of the earth and wring his neck. Yet, for some preposterous reason, he _did_ want to wring _Herr Broomstick´s_ neck, whoever the silly youth was, although he honestly doubted that the twit had ever laid one finger on her.

That is why now he could not digest the idea of _him_ being jealous of _his governess_, although he was fine with the idea of _not_ being jealous of Elsa. He liked to think that such feelings were beneath him now – he was, after all, a mature man, a widower, a father of seven…

He thought about his children for a moment, thinking that one month ago he would never consider them a _safer_ subject to think about, one that would not lead him to unwanted thoughts of any nature. Times had indeed changed!

He thought about the English lessons they were having at that moment. In the old days, the children were completely bilingual, and switched from English – which they always used when speaking to their mother - to German with an ease that baffled him. French had always been another integral part of their education, and although they were not as fluent, they spoke the language with an easy that always amazed Agathe and himself. Nowadays, it was one of the many things that he wondered if was lost to them as a consequence of his actions, one of the things he was determined to fix, no matter how long it took. The governess was taking care of their musical education quite adequately by teaching them basic music theory and with the singing lessons, but there was little or nothing she could do about their language skills. As far as he knew, her knowledge of French and English was nothing short of rudimentary. Her education, as the Reverend Mother had told him, had been adequate, but it pained him to admit that it was very far from the teachings his children had received from the cradle.

In any case, the English lessons with a private tutor would certainly leave Fräulein Maria with a precious hour in her hands. O-ho, he could not help it, he had to know what she would do about it! Inactivity was something he did not associate with her, and the image of the governess napping under a tree appeared as ludicrous as the sight of her blowing soap bubbles in the stairway while she slid down the banister... (He would never forget the look on her face when he surprised her in the middle of that one!) Was she perhaps busy thinking of a multitude of other ways in which she could annoy the hell out of him? Another suitor, perhaps? Stealing things from his pockets, thinking she could get away with it? O-ho, he would _not_ let her get away with that one! Having her fortune read by Frau Schmidt again with the most ludicrous results? Was she planning another disaster? Was she _causing_ another disaster?

He chuckled when he thought of the possibilities, and walked outside, towards the lake, whistling from time to time.

"Captain!"

Her musical voice reached him before he could see her, startling him. Ridiculous as it was, he felt his heart gave a little jolt in his chest, as if he had been caught unawares while doing something wrong. It was not something he was used to and he did not like it because most of the times _he_ was the one who caught others unguarded - he liked to have the element of surprise always in his favor when it suited him. The melodious sound came from the lake and for a mad second he wondered if she hadn´t wandered into that rowboat again. But it was merely an illusion.

"Over here, under the tree!"

"_Which tree?_" he gritted, fighting the urge to laugh at her blatantly unnecessary piece of information. He was, after all, surrounded by trees of every kind, size and shape, some of which were quite exotic, having been brought home from his many trips around the world.

"Hallo!" she greeted, laughingly the moment he finally saw her.

There she was, reclined against a tree trunk. There was a bulky notebook lying in her lap, and a few others scattered around her, some of them open. The same soft breeze that ruffled her golden ruffled their pages, as if the wind was trying to read what she had written there. He shook his head to banish the poetic image from his rational mind.

Again, there it was. That absurd joy etched in her face when he saw her.

What a peculiar female!

Sometimes she looked so tense around him that if felt like she would jump to the roof if he touched her with only the tip of his finger. And she had, only the day before, when he took hold of her wrist to prevent her from stealing the Tarot card he had hidden in his pocket. Yet, in times like this, she could not disguise her sheer _pleasure_ of seeing him. Her face, with her irregular features, was utterly transformed until it was almost… _pretty,_ More than merely _pretty –_ beautiful. Not an obvious beauty like Elsa´s, but an alluring beauty nonetheless, because it was rather… _unique._

He shook his head again, running his fingers through his thick hair while he slowly walked towards her. Something on the ground caught his attention – not one, but several pieces of paper. They were curious little things, those little colorful scraps of paper that women were fond of. Agathe had been no exception and now this governess. One of them depicted a carriage loaded with colorful pansies, pulled by equally colorful butterflies. There were more pansies in another one, a garland carried by two cherubs. He smiled – she did have a fondness for the little flower, as he had imagined during his musings before and after that first and only dinner they had together. He wagered that he would not have to look far to find another favorite of her – the annoying little daffodils. And there they were, a small posy of flowers, next to where she sat, by the trunk of the tree.

"_Oh yes. The eternally unsuspecting Persephone_," he chuckled, not realizing he had spoken the words aloud.

"Captain? Did you say something?"

Silently he took another step towards her. He looked down at more paper scraps scattered everywhere, then at the disordered notebooks. Yes, she had written in them, her handwriting was unmistakable. He could not read the words, but he noticed that the pages were covered not only with her writing, but also with drawings, old post cards and the die cuts, like those he had picked from the ground, like a chaotic scrapbook. Frowning, he realized that the wind was not reading the governess secrets, but that it was also playing tricks on her, just as his children used to do – a few more paper items that were probably not glued properly to the pages were now scattered around her.

"O-o-oh dear! How clumsy of me."

The governess made a motion to get up and do something about the disorder, but he did not let her.

"No, no, you stay there where you are, you´ll only make a bigger mess. Please, allow me," he said gentlemanly.

He reached for one card lying dangerously close to the edge of the lake – a photograph. He glanced at it very quickly, only to see a laughing young girl with long blonde hair flying in the wind. Without giving it another look, he went after another one. He frowned when he found the infamous Tarot card – "_The Lovers_" – depicting a surprisingly decent reproduction of Klimt´s painting by the same name.

"_How the devil did she steal it back from me? _When_ did she do that?_" he thought. Grinning, he hid the card in his pocket before she noticed it. He quickly made a mental note to solve the mystery by asking her one of these days where she had acquired such unusual talents!

He went after the other scraps scattered around her, picking them up, one by one, until he had all of the fugitive pieces of paper safe in his hands. Something in her worried expression told him that those were infinitely precious to her. The way she eagerly reached for them when he handled the small pile he had gathered back to her confirmed his suspicions.

He remembered that he found a large box filled of those little paper things in Agathe´s desk after she died. Not knowing what to do with it, he locked it in one of those trunks in the attic. Throwing something that belonged to his wife away was simply unthinkable, even if only pieces of worthless paper. He doubted that his daughters would want anything to do with that, and he fitfully wondered if the governess would not appreciate them… Would it be improper if he offered them to her? Probably so, and with that conclusion he dismissed the idea immediately. Well, she would have to give everything away to the poor once she made her vows anyway, wouldn´t she? Even little things that were precious to her. He wondered how such a lively creature would live with the possibility.

"Thank you," she whispered, when he handled the runaway scraps, carefully avoiding touching his hands in the process. Then she glanced at the open notebook, as if to explain herself. "My journals."

"You keep a _journal_!" He raised a quizzical eyebrow. So, the Fräulein kept a diary. O-ho, he could not help but being curious about whatever she wrote on it. The scraps of paper added a very alluring element of femininity to whatever she scribbled in those pages.

"Actually I prefer to call it a… ehrm…" she thought for a moment, then frowned "… a _personal repository of information and wisdom_," she finished proudly, apparently satisfied with her choice of words.

His lips twitched.

"You sound like – uh – Sister Berthe." The governess let out a very unladylike moan. "I did not know you were allowed to keep something like this to yourself in the Abbey. I was under the impression that all your secular possessions were given to the poor."

"Yes, they are, but this would not be worth much to the poor, would it? It´s just my own notes, old pieces of paper, a few personal cards and photographs, things that I cut from newspapers and magazines. I am not sure what will happen to it all after I take my vows, but I´m glad I still have them for a while."

There was a hint of sadness in her smile, and he wondered if she was even aware of it. Suddenly he wished he could turn back time, only a few minutes, and steal a quick glance at the photographs he had picked from the ground. Would those reveal a younger and even more innocent – if possible – Fräulein Maria to him? Was she the laughing golden girl with long braided hair he had seen briefly in one of them? Would he be able to glimpse a carefree girl of fourteen fifteen, dreaming of meeting her knight in shining armor – or some ungainly youth at the Pegasus fountain - instead of planning to be locked for life in a medieval convent?

"It is all very… _colorful,_" he commented.

"Yes, I love to add a little color to life whenever and wherever I can, even in a simple notebook," she stated.

"Hmm." He suspected that was something she would say. "Where did you get all that?" he pointed to the pieces of paper still in her hands. Acting on impulse, he sat on a stone not far from her, stretching his long legs before him, rambling distractedly. "You know, Agathe had a fondness for such things too._ Ephemera – _I believe that is how they call it. I think there might be boxes and boxes filled with scrapbooks in the attic. I always thought it was because she was English and…"

He stopped abruptly. Where had all that come from? He _never_ rambled. And he rarely spoke of Agathe to _anyone._ Correction, he _never_ did, unless he was asked to do so. And whenever he did, she was always "_the children´s mother_"_, _more rarely "_my wife",_ but he never, ever pronounced her name. Actually, he could almost count the number of times he had done that since she died. Now it had just escaped his lips naturally, effortlessly. Her name was something almost sacred to him, but now it felt like… just a name, belonging to a woman he once loved. It was a feeling he did not understand, and he was not sure he liked it. He felt a familiar pang in his heart.

The Fräulein noticed his sudden tension, and did her best to work around it.

"My aunt collected them – my foster mother," she said, cleverly choosing wisely to answer his question instead of prodding about Agathe and her scrapbooks in the attic. "She kept her treasures, as I called them, in a brown box tied with strings and never let me get close to it… not that I never tried," she giggled.

"_Brown paper packages tied up with strings,_" he chanted.

"Yes," she laughed. "After she died, the box was sent to me at the Abbey. The Reverend Mother was kind to allow me keep it, because the poor wouldn´t want anything to do with old photographs, postcards and worthless scraps of paper… What is it? Why do you ask?" she frowned again.

"Nothing. I think I am just… still surprised that a future nun is allowed to keep a journal," he provoked.

"Well, not all nuns are keen to the idea, but the Reverend Mother encourages it," she shrugged. "She says that it is important that we learn how to properly express our thoughts and feelings into words. It makes it easier to do God´s work this way."

"_Every_ thought and _every_ feeling?" he taunted further.

"Hah! I know what you are thinking," she blurted, pointing a finger to him, narrowing her eyes. Yes – he was thinking about the broomstick in the Mirabell Gardens, but she couldn´t have known that, could she?

"Is that so? Were you taking lessons from Frau Schmidt in the arts of the occult, perhaps?" he teased.

She laughed, looking away from him.

"Oh please, don´t remind me. No, I think I learned my lesson the last time," she said mirthfully.

He wondered briefly if he was not about to waste the precious opportunity to ask her about the broomstick – that is, that boy the girls had spoken about. Maybe some other time.

"Pray tell me, what your telepathic talents tell you about the inner workings of my mind?" he asked her instead.

"You were wondering if I wrote anything about _you_ and the events of the past few weeks."

"About _me_? Is that so?"

"Mm mm," she nodded.

"Did you?" She eyed him defiantly, but did not reply. "Was I?"

"Yes, it is typical. But not everything that happens is about you, Captain, Not even here in your domains…"

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but something that he needed to be reminded of from time to time.

"_She believes I am nothing but an arrogant peacock,_" he thought.

Was she right? He could not be sure, not anymore. He remembered spending the first few weeks of his courtship of Agathe trying to prove to her that he was _not_ a dandy, because the idea displeased him utterly. After she was gone, he hardly cared what others thought of him. Now, why should it annoy him so much that this girl had the same notion?

It was time for him to take the upper hand in their conversation again.

"Hah! If I am so overbearing, why is it that you seemed so delighted to meet me this morning, Fräulein. _Why_?" he stressed the question, making clear he would not allow her to get away without an answer.

It was now _her_ turn to be taken aback by unabashed honesty. Her face reddened and she looked away again. This time, she pretended to be busy with the old volumes of her journal, gathering them neatly next to her. At first he thought he had her at a loss for words, but he was wrong about it.

"I am just in an extremely good mood today, that is all," she stated, a bit impatiently. "There is nothing wrong with being in a good mood, is it? Not even Franz was able to ruin it. Not even _you._ I won´t allow it." She thought for a moment. "I don´t think he likes me very much."

"Who?" He frowned. "Yes, Fräulein, _who? The boy at the fountain? Are you in love with him after all? Unrequited love – is that what ails you?_" He wondered.

"Your butler."

He laughed at her unexpected answer, absurdly relieved.

"How extremely perceptive of you!" he exclaimed, ironically. "Franz doesn´t like _anyone_, sometimes I think he barely tolerates me. I would not lose my sleep over it, if I were you. But now, I must insist and ask you again – why were you so – uh - _extremely_ happy to meet me?"

A sudden blush tinted her cheeks.

"Ehm… mmm?"

"I mean, the other night, you called me _insignificant,_ and I thought…"

"I explained what I meant, and I apologized," she defended herself quickly. "As for today, it´s all very simple, Captain. I wished to discuss something with you and since Mahomet does not go to the mountain, it was very convenient that the mountain came to… Ooohh you know what I mean! That is why I was so pleased to see you here," she finished, clearly satisfied with her answer.

He smirked. "Am I to be Mohamed or the mountain?"

She gave him a thorough up and down look, utterly oblivious of how obvious her appreciation of him.

"_Keep doing that to every other male you meet, Fräulein, and you´ll have to deal with much more than just only one man in your future as Frau Schmidt´s cards predicted,"_ he thought bitterly. No, the idea did not please him at all. Undoubtedly the little governess would be _much_ safer in the Abbey!

"That depends entirely on how difficult you are going to be today." Immediately after she said that, she bit her lower lip. "Oh, I´m sorry. Here I go again."

"It is quite all right, I assure you. I provoked that one, I deserved it. Now please tell me, what you wished to discuss with me."

"Very well." She took her sweet time. She arranged her notebooks in a neat pile, then she took the sprig of flowers and placed it between two blank pages of the one on top. "It´s the children, of course. You told me that I could talk to you about them at any time."

"Of course I did and I expect you to do that. I´m all ears."

"It hasn´t escaped their attention, or mine, that you haven´t shared a meal with them since you returned from Vienna," she stated boldly. "It´s been almost two weeks now."

"I see. You fear I am starting to neglect them again." Once more, she started torturing her lower lip, but she nodded vigorously. "It´s all right, that has been my concern as well. But I do have guests, Fräulein, and my obligations as a host demand that I give them my full attention. There is nothing I can do about it, there are rules I must live with. I am sure the children can understand that, regardless of the circumstances."

"Yes, they do, but they are _your children,_ Captain!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Oh I know that you are giving each one of them more attention, and that is a wonderful thing, but…"

"_You are right, dammit_," he wanted to should back at her. Instead, he took a deep breath. "What precisely do you have in mind?"

"It´s Herr Detweiler´s birthday today, I am sure you are aware of that." He nodded – Max´s birthday was an occasion that the fiend made sure that no one _ever _forgot. It was her turn to take a breath for courage. "The children wanted to surprise him with a cake at dinner. With your permission, of course."

"Why would I say no to that?"

"Because you will have to be present at dinner… with the children, of course."

"That is hardly a problem, is it? Max christened three of my children, I would never consider not including them at the table."

"I´m glad, but, you see, they want to bake the cake themselves… as a gift to their favorite uncle…"

She stared at him, as if bracing herself for his reaction. His first impulse was so say a resounding _"no",_ followed by a ten minute lecture, explaining his reasons, one by one. Then again, that elusive _something_ that attracted him to her like a bee to a flower gave him pause, made him think long enough to consider the possibility of humoring his children… of humoring _her._

"Mmmm…," he mumbled. "It is a very unusual request, Fräulein, I am sure you are aware of it."

He scratched his jaw, while she still watched him like a hawk, as if trying to read his every thought.

"_Children belonging to the higher classes, particular the von Trapp children, do not frolic in the kitchen with their governess, baking cakes to give as birthday presents,_" he thought_. _It was one of the many ideas that he had grown up with, one that seemed ridiculously silly and meaningless all of a sudden.

"Yes," she continued, more confidently now. "But the children are willing to do that during their free time later this afternoon, and I thought…"

"Have you spoken to the _chef_?"

She was quick to guess his intention behind the terse question. Her response did not surprise him in the least – one of her unspeakable moans and one of the many curious looks in her expressive face from her vast repertoire, one he hadn´t quite learned to read yet. Annoyance, mixed with amusement, if such a thing was possible.

"Yes, I know," she exclaimed, in an overly dramatic tone. Her hands dropped to her side, in a gesture that meant she was conceding him victory this time. She took a deep breath before mimicking his militaristic tone almost perfectly. "_There is a chain of command that must be obeyed at all times._ I know that, Captain, it was one of the very first things I was told in this house. I must report to Frau Schmidt or Franz first, and they will report to you," she recited.

"I believe I made myself clear the other night, I told you that you were free to speak to me directly about any matter directly or indirectly concerning the children. I never mentioned such nonsense about a chain of command. Yes, there is one, if you must know but it does not apply to you!"

"Your other employers believe it does. I should not bother you with meaningless, menial things, I should not go to you directly unless it is an emergency or a matter of extreme importance. Oh, I know what you are going to say, that baking a chocolate cake does not exactly qualify as a matter of life or death, but, but…"

He gifted her with one of his slow, deadly smiles, as her voice trailed away.

"_What_?"

"Did you say _chocolate_?"

"Yes, I did."

"_Dark_ chocolate?"

Funnily, the idea tempted him. It had been years since he had the pleasure of savoring a simple chocolate cake, instead of the elaborate deserts that usually came from his kitchen.

"It could be if _someone_ asks nicely."

"I should warn you, Fräulein, that the success or failure of your current mission depends entirely on your next answer," he teased.

The governess burst on laughing.

"Thank heavens you are human after all, Captain von Trapp," she said, raising her eyes heavenward, as if in prayer. "Wine, champagne and caviar perhaps, but I would _never_ picture you as a _chocolate lover_. By the way, dark chocolate is my favorite too."

"_She_ does_ think that I am nothing but an arrogant snob,_" he thought distastefully. Chocolate aside, it had been at the very tip of his tongue to ask her if she had ever pictured him not as a chocolate lover, but rather, simply as a _lover_. Flirting with a woman was something almost natural to him, and it usually involved quick retorts like that. If she were Elsa, or any other, he would have done it, although with his future bride he already knew what the answer would be.

However, not to the innocent governess!

There she was, with her posy of daffodils carefully tucked between the pages of her diary, looking just like Persephone before she was abducted by Hades, the king of the underworld. And not for the first time since he met her, he felt like Hades himself. He wagered that a word such as _lover_ was never written in any of the pages of her journals, not even to refer to a treat such as chocolate. If she ever gave the meaning of the word any thought at all, it would not have gone further than what she had just said to him.

"Yes, I do have a few things in common with the rest of mankind," he retorted sarcastically, masking the very improper other ideas beginning to form in his mind. "You are absolutely right, Fräulein, a cake, chocolate or not, isn´t a matter of life and death, of course," he said simply. "Not even if it is dark and rich chocolate," he added, smiling, softening his tone. He pointed a finger to her. "However, as you just reminded me a moment ago, I did ask you to come to me whenever you had to discuss the children."

"It´s a cake, Captain, not a child," she said, very seriously.

"_Does she do that on purpose?_" he asked himself, not sure of he started laughing or if he pulled his hair from his skull in sheer frustration.

"Fräulein Maria," he said simply. "You…"

"Yes, Captain?"

Again the innocent, disingenuous look in her face.

"Never mind, forget your point, if there ever was one. Let us be practical for once. Just answer me, please. Have you spoken to the chef about this… cake of yours?"

"I tried to this morning, I really did, but he only yelled at me in half a dozen languages, none of which I could understand. Oh, that little man can be worse than Franz, I don´t think he likes me very much either. I couldn´t grasp a word of it, but Liesl understood it all and she said he said he was banishing me from his kitchen."

"I will have _him_ banished from _my_ kitchen," he said between clenched teeth, not quite comprehending the source of his irritation. He did not mean to say the words aloud, and he cursed as soon as he realized that.

"Captain?" she asked, puzzled.

"Never mind, Fräulein. It is, after all, a special occasion, and I think I should please you… I should humor the children,_ just this once,_" he stressed. "I will speak to the chef myself. It will all be arranged. You and the children can bake that cake after they finish their lessons."

"Oh Captain!" she exclaimed, jubilant. "Thank you, thank you, _thank you_!" she clasped her hands firmly.

"Only once will suffice, Fräulein. You are welcome. Just do me a favor while you are at it and try not to blow the galley, to pieces will you?"

He didn´t think she ever heard the last recommendation. She was already running as fast as her slim legs could carry her, towards the house, her precious journals firmly clutched against her bosom. He realized that she never noticed that he had stolen back "_The Lovers_" card – he wondered what she would do when she finally did. Would she recover it from him again? It would be fun to watch and wait. Smiling, almost absent-mindedly, he patted his breast pocket, where the card was safely hidden.

38


End file.
